Honeymoon

My sister married, once again. They said it was a joke, of all the Fatherland's keen men who would not mind the yoke she picked a cousin, hers and mine whose wife had bought the farm this cousin is quite fond of wine, the family viewed with alarm the budding love unfold so fast, nothing could slow this train who knows how long this trip can last. In the compartment all are happy some dance, some sing and some are drunk some hours later he is crappy retires early to his bunk. The morning sees him still in bed his bride is drinking stale champagne not knowing yet that he is dead and that the journey was in vain.