Sunday, 16 February 2014

Reunion Dinner (Rondeau Redouble)


"God! They all looked so old,
pecking order hadn't changed,
creaking old bores, stagnant minds, growing mould,
Birkenshawe was almost gibbering, quite deranged.
Lord knows why the damned thing was arranged.
We none of us could really stand each other, I was told
it was fifty years since Monte was ordained.
God! They all looked so old,
Monte wasn't one of us, but we were shepherded into his fold,
probably his wife's idea, though she had feigned
a migraine, wasn't there.  I sat next to Leon Gold,
pecking order hadn't changed,
Beauchamp barely deigned
to speak to me, then he hit the brandy and grew bold,
asked me if I ever saw David, looked quite pained.
Creaking old bores, stagnant minds, growing mould,
David died in '83, I'm sure he knew.  Thompson had sold
his family estate, showed me a photo old and grained
of us all at some do.  Potter had an awful cold,
Birkenshawe was almost gibbering, quite deranged.
Don't know why they turned up. Smythe's suit was stained,
can't think why he'd crawled out of the woodwork. Strolled
round the grounds, beautiful! Thought of what remained,
of what we had been once, sobbed, quite uncontrolled;
God! They all looked so old."


No comments:

Post a comment