Hmm, I have a feeling Lucy will not look kindly on verse for this one, but when the intrepid Whitworth leads the way . . .
Dear John Betjeman, I'm single
And the curate here is free
(Hampshire, Wallop-iuxta-Swingle)
But he doesn’t notice me!
Oh so High Church, Romewards-wending,
Are his Sunday sermon flights . . .
Can there be a happy ending?
Yours sincerely, 'Sleepless Nights'.
Dear young lady, is he ‘poping’?
(All the rage, alas, just now.)
If so, things you may be hoping
Simply spell ‘unholy row’.
Read some Pyms, not trendy Trollopes,
Then prepare to cut and run
From the curate, church, and Wallops!
Ever yours, John Betjeman.
Last edited by Jerome Betts; 01-24-2011 at 10:14 AM.
Reason: Rejigged
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