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A SUBALTERN'S LOVE SONG
A poem by John Betjeman
Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!
Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won,
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.
Her father's euonymus shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk,
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.
The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.
On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts,
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
And westering, questioning settles the sun,
On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.
By roads "not adopted", by woodlanded ways,
She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
I can hear from the car park the dance has begun,
Oh! Surrey twilight! importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!
Around us are Rovers and Austins afar,
Above us the intimate roof of the car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice.
And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
We sat in the car park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
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MS. JENNIFER JOANNA ANISTON
(Mr. Vernon Kenneth Churchill's unsung love song)
Ms. Jennifer Joanna Aniston
Much too fresh to require Canesten,
I first fell in love when I saw her in 'Friends',
She was stunning and chic as a Mercedes Benz.
Lovelorn and smitten I sent her a cake,
Along with my photograph (hellish mistake)
Said I hoped the sponge was as scrummy as her,
She never replied, though I guess she'd concur.
Ms. Jennifer Joanna, they say faint heart
Can't win fair lady, so I made a start,
To woo her, pursue her and lure her on dates!
Then I bought a flight for the United States.
My wife gave me hell when I voiced my intentions,
I told her it was a dull business convention,
"Convention? You work down the sewers!" she'd crowed,
But I answered "In my job I go with the flow."
Told her the plan was to discuss proposals
On zonal link-ups for sewage disposals,
And my boss had suggested I was the best man,
He'd told them that no one talks crap like I can.
"Hmm, you're so lying," she'd murmured, "but go,
Though I trust this won't mirror that last fiasco,
You chased bombshell Shakira all round the globe,
Till she threatened your end with that long rectal probe!"
Thus, Jenny, I left and came straight to LA,
As I'd heard that's the smart place you dwell in these days,
I found your address and rang on the bell,
There was so very much I was longing to tell.
I'd announce: "I'm Vernon, your number one fan!"
And ask you to dinner, somewhere rather grand,
But the clown who answered informed me that you
Had gone to get married to Justin Theroux!
Ms. Jennifer Joanna Aniston
Hell, what've you done, Jenny? What've you done?
I dumped damn Shakira to run after you,
Now you're set to get wed, such a dumb thing to do!
But I'd made my commitment and if I left now,
I'd maybe rush in before she'd said her vows!
I called for a cab and yelled: "To the venue!
Must catch Jenny-babe before she says 'I do'!"
Now I've wound up in hospital, in an old robe,
Grr... Shakira had lent her that damn rectal probe!
But who's that cute lass on the bedside TV?
Meghan Markle? Ah, she's now the woman for me!
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