Sentence The Threehundredandeightythird

  

  

It was only an acheiropoieton,

The image on his handkerchief -

But the doughty lass looked him straight in the eye,

Saw the Beltane pin that he wore in his tie,

And the Tulipomania crystal flute that swung from the chain of his watch, forby,

She said: “ma wean's restless, the sitter can't stop, so I'm sorry, I'll have to fly, goodbye!”

And he gave a wearisome sigh,

Opened his case, took out a cigar, lit it and left the wee café with an overwhelming sense of great relief.