Engagement Ring

If I were to marry thee
God knows I only think it right
That tho’ buys that ring
Tho’ knows, diamond thing
Before I stay the night

If I were to let thee
Tho’ knows, sex wi'out a fight
I need that ring
Tho’ knows, that diamond thing
Before I stay the night

If I were to kiss thee
God knows there’s a chance I might
Tongue thy mouth
North to south
Before I stay the night

If I were to show thee
A sunrise shining bright
Then gie us a ring
Tho’ knows, that diamond thing
Before I stay the night

Tho’ could stay till Christmas morn
On past till the Swallows flight
Oh yes, tho’ll rue the day
If tho’ don’t pay
Before I stay the night

A Glimpse of black Lace

A fourteen-year-old boy with summer on his face. The thin Sunday morning sunlight brightening a shock of fair tousled hair, his watery blue eyes widened as though he was seeing the world for the first time. A boy in National Health issue spectacles, black round thin frames that cut through thin ears like wire through cheese. Worse, thick brown paper had been fitted across one lens, in an effort to correct a lazy eye.

Before crossing into the cool green copse I stood and watched a mother with her two young daughters as they waited at the bus stop bench.
Clean, starched white and ready for church.
Late August chased racing white clouds across ‘Warner's Farm’ in warm flurries. It would be a good day for the sailing.
The boisterous summer breezes fluttered about the three of them, the mother's skirts ballooned, billowing up around her like a floral spinnaker.
A glimpse of black lace...Her eyes momentarily met my gaze as her large red mouth pouted disapproval at her passive voyeur.
White ribbons danced out from beneath pretty dark curls as the little girls, laughing, swung dancing around the bus stop pole like queens of the May. Giggling, their skirts flying. As the pretty group made ready to board a bus, which slowly approached up the steep avenue. I continued watching, until the old tub of a bus rounded the corner at the top of the avenue, leaving me alone once again with Sunday morning.

Brenda Hazel Augustus Died2006 10th April (1927 - 2006)

The last bombs of World War Two were still falling, and by a small way of celebration my pretty mother was fired headlong into her sixteenth birthday exploding into womanhood like a bright shining morning. Nervous and naïve she sat smiling behind layered veils of ‘Craven A’, pale ale and the strong odour of church hall lavender. Sweet velvet rose, bursting to bloom, dark and hidden within a bouquet of giggling wallflowers at their first Services dance. She was so sure that she would only dance with heroes, she’d know what to say, and she’d know what to do.

My father wasn’t a hero but he had made her laugh when he accompanied her home and asked if he could see again.
She had made love with my father just the once, seduced giddy after a night of nicotine kisses and ‘Casablanca at the Kings Cinema’. She had acquiesced upon the cold sandy shingle as had they listened to the sea while they awaited the chain ferry’s tired rattle somewhere beyond the breakwater as it echoed across from the river estuary.
She would never dance with heroes now.

I Feel Pretty

I feel pretty

Oh so pretty

I feel pretty and witty and gay

And I pity,

Any boy who isn’t me today

I’m wearing panties

Mon petite scanties

It's alarming how charming they feel

And so pretty that I hardly believe they’re real

I wear blue ones

See Right through ones

They are racy and lacy and gay

And I pity Any boy who isn’t in them today

(Instrumental and dance routine)

I’m wearing panties,

G string Diamantes

It's alarming how charming they feeL

And so pretty that I hardly believe they’re real

(Dance to the full length Mirror)

See that battery driven thing in that mirror there (what mirror where)

What can that big black thing be?

What a pretty Lump (Hum)

What a pretty Bump (Humm)

What a pretty Grunt (Hummm)

What a pretty meeee!!! (Hummmm)

It feels stunning (feels stunning)

And entrancing (and entrancing)

Both: I feel like running and dancing for joy

For I’m in love with a pretty wonderful toy!