A BLIGHTED TROTH

Oh Muriel Bloy, Muriel Bloy
I was just an impressionable boy
Who saved my money up to buy
Two theatre tickets for you and I
To spend an evening in London Town
And in your company blissfully drown.

Whatever you thought, if you only knew
The chances I had were far and few,
I was sixteen and oh so green,
You were pretty and seventeen.

We worked in the Town hall in the day
You towered above me in every way;
You could talk, you could dance
And you had even been to France.
You lived in a house with a gravel drive
Your parents took cocktails at five.

Of the Town Hall girls, there were quite a few,
My friend Raymond and I courted Pat and you;
We didn’t yet know about womans’ wiles
As we worked together on the files.

We took it in turns to answer the bell
When the Treasurer thought to ring
Little did we know that time would tell;
Maturity has its very own sting.

But times move on and viewpoints change
And now from your charms I am out of range;
Though from your lips I hoped once to sup
Thank you now Muriel for standing me up.

Because although life became eternal blight
For an instance in time it seemed just right;
Wherever you are now, Muriel Bloy
Receive grateful thanks from that impressionable boy.

June 1996