A YOUNG LADY OF PORTUGAL AND A YOUNG MAN OF ENGLAND

A. diz que eu lhe faco lembrar um limerick. Solene e teatral como um guarda do Palacio de Buckingham pousa a pint de Home Pride na mesa e comeca a recitar:

There was a young lady of Portugal
Whose ideas were excessively nautical;
She climbed up a tree
To examine the sea
But declared she would never leave Portugal

-And you say that the limerick reminds you of me?
-Yup.
-But I left Portugal and I'm five years older than you...it should be something like:" There was an old lady of Portugal"
-But you never left Portugal. In your head you're still living there.
-We have a word for that in portuguese, saudades. You're english, you wouldn't understand and I can't explain.
-It's like marmite on toast then.
-Like what?
-Marmite on toast, you have to be british to tolerate that stuff.
-Oi, I actually like marmite on toast
-You're going native!
-No!
-It's not that bad, you could be turning french...
-But you're probably right A., you have to be portuguese to tolerate that saudades stuff.