Miss Celia Leblanc meets His Honor Jerry

Jail was no beach house, all Celia could think of was Helsingør
and if the wind was blowing south or from, as feared, Stavanger.
But she didn’t make a fuss, nary a noise, she was no headbanger
and so the sound, when it came, did some trepidation bring’er!
It wasn’t loud, obnoxious or some kind of hell raising ear wringer,
no, rather it was melodic, catchy and, if anything, a humdinger.
It might be dramatique to wax you poetical, cause a cliffhanger
but why should I be a hanger wringer or a wronger clinger prolonger?
The face appearing through the light through the bars was a zinger
for there was none other than tabloid king, and mayor, Jerry Springer!
“Hey there! Time to get you sprung out of there you bird winger!”
“Your worship, to what do I owe to have to my cell you a bringer?”
“How convoluted you speak. But no matter. Stand back I’m a gunslinger.”
She did and he did and before you could say ‘That cat’s a Schrödinger’
Celia was sprung by Jerry the Springer. Away they rode on his klipspringer.
As they bounded outskirts of Rabaul she asked of her freedom bringer
“Who minds Cincinnati as you rescue folk oh Jerry the me springer?”
He laughed, “Hahaha, no problem, I leave it to Fred my doppelgänger!
Now we must fly back to my secret base in North Dakota, in Sanger,
so hold tight for to the skies my trusty steed will be an us flinger.”

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