The Spoonbill Generator

When We Reconsider All Our Footsteps

My grandmother told me on one grand occasion [TG]

That she'd oft met the Queen in her youth [P]

But, baffled at finding she wasn't Caucasian [Roland]

Refused to partake of the regal vermouth [P]

Oh Wormwood! Oh Gall! [Roland]

It's hardly surprising she went into exile [P]

Oh Weasels! Oh Guile! [Roland]

It's hardly surprising she ran from the ball [P]

My grandmother's boudoir, all lichen and fungus [Roland]

Was designed by a gardener named Brown [TG]

Who had long ago wheedled his way in among us [P]

Clad in a hideous Alice-blue gown [Roland]

The imposter! The clown! [p]

Believe it or not he was wearing no stockings! [Roland]

The mirth! And the mocking! [p]

Believe it or not he was laughed out of town. [Roland]

My grandmother's boudoir - as I was saying - [P]

Had a view over craters and domes [Roland]

Where the children of wives of the King would be playing [P]

At skittles, their target ten ill-tempered gnomes [Roland]

The laughter! The screams! [P]

I hardly need mention my Grandma's reaction [Roland]

Distress! And distraction! [P]

I hardly need say, it still rings in her dreams [Roland]

My grandmother's boudoir, of this I am certain, [P]

Was immune to the dictates of style [Roland]

For she'd spent all her youth swathed in reams of old curtain [P]

Their mildewy velvet bereft of all pile [Roland]

The gossip! The shame! [TG]

It's amazing to think that she dared show her face [P]

The snubs! The disgrace! [TG]

Despite all her nostrums the beard is the same! [Bop]


Contributors: TG, P, Roland, p, Bop
Poem finished: 18th January 1999