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03/06/2021
Gandix
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Gandix
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22
Lord Grantham
An English gentleman from
well-to-do circumstances,
residing at Grantham Manor,
finishes his fruity tea with lemon.
He glances at his pocket watch,
Time to leave.
"James, my jacket please!"
Immediately James is on the spot,
with the tweed jacket and matching cap.
In the garden, Lord Grantham picks a rose
and sticks it in his buttonhole.
Off to the horse races...
As he gets out of the vintage car,
a little beaver runs between his feet.
He almost gets knocked down.
"Archibald!" he roars
"Archi!!!!" (Archi is the groom)
"How many times do I have to say....
I don't want any beavers here.
It makes the horses spooky!
And where's Pierre?"
Pierre, his new jockey from France.
France because they're smaller and lighter.
" Uhhh ... Chief..., yes..., Pierre,
he's looking for the leather saddle,
but he can't find it But that's not a problem, boss.. we still have the other one but he's without leather...
and Fridolin, the stallion,
doesn't like him at all... but..."
"Then he'll just have to ride bareback, "replies Lord Grantham.
He strolls to his ancestral place on the wooden benches.
There he sees her,
the lady of his heart, in a hat of course.
He takes the spicy rose from his buttonhole
and hands it to the lady.
A radiant smile crosses her face.
Together they watch the race.
Fridolin, freed from the heavy weight of the leather saddle,
and with the flyweight Pierre on his back,
shoots out of the starting box.
Only Sabretooth, the stallion of the hostile Lord Dragonshouse
can keep up to some extent.
Suddenly, a shout goes up through the crowd....
Sabretooth shies away....
the beaver ran across the track...
Fridolin doesn't care...
He knows the beaver...
They snuggle up secretly every night..
Good thing Lord Grantham doesn't know that!!!
Fridolin dashes through the finish.
As is customary after English horse races,
people stomp the meadow flat again afterwards,
and have fun doing it.
Lord Grantham, considering the victory and the lady at his side,
is in good spirits and buys the lady a bouquet of flowers.
Afterwards they wash their hands with soap,
english of course.
You could say the scent is oldschool. That would hit it very much. In the prelude
slightly citrusy-fruity,
without tea, that was just because of the Englishman and his tweed jacket.
Appropriate animalism is appropriate in this fragrance.
Well, I made up the beaver, but it already smells in that direction.
A single rose, somewhat spicy,
turns into a bouquet of flowers,
at the end slightly soapy.
The whole is accompanied by subtle woody notes.
well-to-do circumstances,
residing at Grantham Manor,
finishes his fruity tea with lemon.
He glances at his pocket watch,
Time to leave.
"James, my jacket please!"
Immediately James is on the spot,
with the tweed jacket and matching cap.
In the garden, Lord Grantham picks a rose
and sticks it in his buttonhole.
Off to the horse races...
As he gets out of the vintage car,
a little beaver runs between his feet.
He almost gets knocked down.
"Archibald!" he roars
"Archi!!!!" (Archi is the groom)
"How many times do I have to say....
I don't want any beavers here.
It makes the horses spooky!
And where's Pierre?"
Pierre, his new jockey from France.
France because they're smaller and lighter.
" Uhhh ... Chief..., yes..., Pierre,
he's looking for the leather saddle,
but he can't find it But that's not a problem, boss.. we still have the other one but he's without leather...
and Fridolin, the stallion,
doesn't like him at all... but..."
"Then he'll just have to ride bareback, "replies Lord Grantham.
He strolls to his ancestral place on the wooden benches.
There he sees her,
the lady of his heart, in a hat of course.
He takes the spicy rose from his buttonhole
and hands it to the lady.
A radiant smile crosses her face.
Together they watch the race.
Fridolin, freed from the heavy weight of the leather saddle,
and with the flyweight Pierre on his back,
shoots out of the starting box.
Only Sabretooth, the stallion of the hostile Lord Dragonshouse
can keep up to some extent.
Suddenly, a shout goes up through the crowd....
Sabretooth shies away....
the beaver ran across the track...
Fridolin doesn't care...
He knows the beaver...
They snuggle up secretly every night..
Good thing Lord Grantham doesn't know that!!!
Fridolin dashes through the finish.
As is customary after English horse races,
people stomp the meadow flat again afterwards,
and have fun doing it.
Lord Grantham, considering the victory and the lady at his side,
is in good spirits and buys the lady a bouquet of flowers.
Afterwards they wash their hands with soap,
english of course.
You could say the scent is oldschool. That would hit it very much. In the prelude
slightly citrusy-fruity,
without tea, that was just because of the Englishman and his tweed jacket.
Appropriate animalism is appropriate in this fragrance.
Well, I made up the beaver, but it already smells in that direction.
A single rose, somewhat spicy,
turns into a bouquet of flowers,
at the end slightly soapy.
The whole is accompanied by subtle woody notes.
16 Comments
ChicoRoch1
Odysseus
