Bromford's Ark - Part 14 - 12:12 a.m.

Apartment 13 - Eighth Floor … and we go from door to door.

There is no train in this apartment house. What a strange daydream that was. Or better a nightdream. Not yet a nightmare.

'Where is Speedy?' I ask the llama.

And to myself I murmur, 'Oh, how I miss his sandwich bar and café and how I transformed it into a breakfast diner in my imagination.'

'Speedy is not here', the llama says and hands me a handkerchief from its pouch. 'He does not own an apartment in this building and isn't living here.'

'And he is busy with this lockdown', Nigel remarks.

'Lockdown ain't easy', our new companions Maddy and Maurice Mole add, 'it's like living in holes underground.'

And way down we go …

"Bomford"

Bromford, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Bromford
My woman needs it ev’ryday
She promised this a-lad she’d stay
She’s rollin’ up a lotta bread to toss away

She’s in Bromford, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Bromford
Now she’s opened up an old maid’s home
She’s proud, but she needs to roam
She’s gonna write herself a roadside poem about Bromford

Bromford, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Bromford
Since I’m never gonna cease to roam
I’m never, ever far from home
But I’ll build a geodesic dome and sail away

Don’t feel bad, no, no, no, no, don’t feel bad
It’s the best food I’ve ever had
Makes me feel so glad
That she’s cooking in a homemade pad
She never caught a cold so bad when I’m away

Bromford, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Bromford
My shrimp boat’s in the bay
I won’t have my nature this way
And I’m leanin’ on the wheel each day to drift away from

Bromford, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear Bromford
My sister looks good at home
She’s lickin’ on an ice cream cone
She’s packin’ her big white comb
What does it weigh?