My Dear Prudence,

Please come for a visit.
We shall go for a nice ride in the country, and I will listen to you.
Oh wouldn't that be nice!
Won't it be?

I shall heed your dear voice sir, and I will live my life by your code.
Oh, for the sake of Prudence!

If only I had you by my side when the seas of life were tempests, then perhaps, then I could live my life happily, like the clam I know you are, dear sir!

Is this fictitious?
Not really. But you live in books and in old songs from British mouths. saliva.

It collects in your mouth and swishes unpleasantly like snot against your tongue.

But Prudence, won't you help me? If only my heart would remember you dear. Like a dog I want to be fond of, but cannot seem to find the heart to be so, I cannot seem to heed you. Oh, the tragedy of man's soul!

Alas?

I am not part of that sex. A different species one might say.

But what say you, Prudence? Dripping from a dead dog’s eye.
Dear dear Prudence.

Growing up I was not taught to pray to Mary, but to pray to my father. We would say, “Dear heavenly Father, in Jesus’ name, Amen.” On the way home we would sing the devil's music and ask Prudence to come out and play with us like John would.

From the mouths of shot dead cleverness.