Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Another Song for W. H. A.

My old tin shack, my Fleetwood Mac,
My panjandrum, my piston,
My dog with fleas, my fragrant cheese,
My darling Doctor Wystan:
How do you play your merry way
Through summer's chilly flurries --
An average joe with lots of dough,
A wag that never worries?

My flaxen lad, my Breaking Bad,
My drunken monkish teacher,
My killer whale, my nightingale,
My Creature Double Feature,
Who gave you skill to smite the shrill,
The shouting heckling fellows?
Who gave you brains to shake the pains
Inflicted by the jealous?

My wrinkled souse, my brick outhouse,

My vim-and-vigorous vicar,
My shining mind, my sage so kind,
My fop, my field-goal-kicker,
For all the times I've sung your rhymes
I wish I had a shilling --
I’d sell your strophes (priceless trophies!)
And really make a killing.

My dirty look, my neat notebook,

My reverend confessor,
My Anglophone, my funny bone,
My playmate and professor,
My dream police, my masterpiece,
Who's half as good as you?
My autumn day, golden and gay!
My lovable Wystan Hugh!

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