Let’s ring the bell, let’s blow the horn
It’s one score and one since Andrew was born;
Let’s raise a cheer, let’s sing a song
For that day when he came along;
A prodigal son, the first of a tribe –
The mind fails when one tries to describe
Such a talented one, such a paragon son;
Just ask his doting Dad and Mum.
Whatever the measure he has the form –
The theatrical World he’s taken by storm;
But what of the boy? – A man today
What are the values there on display?
A prudent restlessness, a loving heart,
A joy of travel, but unhappy apart,
A caring son, a noble friend,
A depth of integrity that has no end.
Are there no faults in this model son?
No Achilles heel for such a one?
Untidy? w-e-l-l, that’s just a whim,
Time will sort that out for him.
With his life so well begun
Now the wheel of fate is spun –
‘Messieurs, Mesdames, faites vos jeux’
‘Le Grand Andre veut amener’ –
Click – click – the ivories run
Rewards, so many to be won
For destiny has not yet done
With Valhalla’s favourite son;
So now the chorus – its moment come
Can proclaim Andrew is one score and one.

December 2005