October 3, 2009

Thoughts upon my Ruby Wedding: Chant Royal by pinkroom

Filed under: Uncategorized — mishari @ 6:45 AM

Young Sinatra

Thoughts upon my Ruby Wedding

My dear old mum was a bobby soxer
had an eye for a man in uniform
my sad, old dad was a losing boxer
just three wins in nineteen, when I was born.
None surprised when she left with a gunner,
from pictures I’ve seen, she looked a stunner
so I was mostly brought up by my nan;
my father’s mother, who lived in East Ham –
what was left of it post the Luftwaafe –
where once Mum and Dad pushed me in a pram
and made love to the songs of Sinatra

Then dad caught her with the gunner, clocks her
but the gunner had fists that could perform
another bout, left flat on the floor sir,
gunner and mum left, my pram on the lawn.
Me? Crying inside. They did a runner;
had I been my dad, I would have done her
but losing too often, breaks down a man,
just gave a shrug as away those two ran.
out over the hills and far, far farther.
A new life together, they danced and sang
and made love to the songs of Sinatra

So after a fashion, I grew faster.
No motherly guilt, to bind or be torn.
My childhood was filled loud and with laughter
as I ran with orphans, wild sown corn,
across bricks and the weeds ev’ry summer,
no kid seemed to have quite their own mumma,
or any one much, to give much a damn,
for flocks of small sparrows, out on the lam.
The big boys and girls were no martyrs
Babysit? No, they’d head west on the tram
And made love to the songs of Sinatra.

Not that I didn’t feel pains of hunger
and rage, feeling sometimes lost and forlorn.
Oftentimes I would just lie and wonder
if she were off in New York, or Cape Horn?
At those times I could not have been glummer
And my spirits left hardly more numb-er
As I dreamed of her dark, Bondi Beach tan
her arms round a big, broad, Aus-tra-li-an
and three kiddiwinks: thick, dumb and dumber,
holidaying just south of Sumatra.
Evenings they spent there, in talk of Siam
and made love to the songs of Sinatra

Of first love I soon had my first taster,
fell for a girl with the eyes of a faun.
So determined I was not to waste her,
I gave her my whole thought, from morn to morn
‘til the day came I knew that I’d won her,
her disposition so much sunnier
held me close and said that I was her Dan,
that we should do it whenever we can,
and for a while nothing was funnier;
to my Leytonstone digs, to walk not far
I’d sneak her in, the dansette primed, planned
and made love to the songs of Sinatra


But we grew apart, sooner than later,
like my old mum I proved quite the traitor
I met my Irene, an affair began
Inevitable happened, I caught the can
Had a nipper together named Arthur.
Forty years on, we’ve stumbled and ran
and made love to the songs of Sinatra.



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