Up we shall journey

Up we shall journey, to the wild wastelands of the North
Desperately wondering whether the voyage will be worth
it. And yet as we travel the distance to places afar
Our thoughts will turn to Liz at home, reading Glas.
We hope she will prove able to cope by herself
And that she won't consume anything deleterious to her health.

All that I would say to you is this — mind the text,
Liz, mind the text, lest you have a surfeit of it,
Wherefore we might have, on our return, to inform your next
of kin as to your impending insanity. But what of it —
It will now be apparent that I have difficulty
Making this rhyme ———

but tell me, o Liz, can I be blamed for this?
Is it a crime?

P.S. Don't be too garrulous here in our absence.
& have a good Easter moose.