Blame It On The Coast Guard Poem by Mason Maestro

It's hard to imagine the clyde drawing unmistakable enemy cuisers
to the coast
damned with silk and money
That of a see'r whose blind to lies
Blind to disguise once crammed with milk and honey
They were carried on by the lionness
who needed to press
The co-ordinates of her mess

Hard seat - Heat fleet
Radar guidance- nautical street
A kiss from afar...
and death were bound to meet

Penalty paid to the nation in a year-
...The virus made itself perfectly clear