But Actually...
Although you're tall, and gifted
Although your blood runs hot
My thumb-print on your bedroom wall
Is surely no excuse to call
My wedding-veil a mourning shawl
For clearly it is not
So, till that veil is lifted
I pray you, stand apart
And while I trim the black bouquet
And clear the foetid dregs away
So we may broach the Beaujolais
Please don't break my heart
Contributors: | Roland, TG, P. |
Poem finished: | 12th December 1997. |