“So I says, 'Blow it outcha you-know-where.'

In spite of the length of the poem (26 verses), it is preferable to classify it as an inscription, and that because of its contents: The donoress prays for the recovery of her husband who suffers from high fever and for a good development of her own pregnancy.

Perhaps there are no real patterns, only those that we feeble-mindedly impose.

While walking in the off-peak over the small wood-panelled footbridge [at Baker Street station] that connects the two original platforms - which itself resembles an old-fashioned railway carriage hoisted above the tracks - I would not be surprised to see a top-hatted man approaching me.