Elizabeth Mary Victoria Raynes

by | Dec 1, 2007 | Poetry | 0 comments

Elizabeth Mary Victoria Raynes,
Lived near Old Windsor, a bit west of Staines.
She was elegant, graceful, and always polite,
And kept her house spotless, though money was tight.
She worked in a teashop near Runnymede Isle,
Serving poppy-seed cakes and sweet camomile.

Elizabeth Mary was not very tall,
Pleasant of face, but no belle of the ball.
She was witty, and cheerful, and erudite,
And went out discreetly each Saturday night.
She’d cycle the back lanes to Egham station,
For eight o’clock prompt, and an assignation.

Miss Raynes was approaching her forty-fourth year.
She did not need glasses, her eyesight was clear.
With chestnut brown hair, and her eyes emerald green,
But with a man-friend, she had never been seen.
Not counting, of course, her male friends in the choir.
Though none had ignited sweet Lizzie’s desire.

One warm summer’s day, Liz was out on her bike.
And was passing a group on a Thames pathway hike.
Her front wheel went giddily into a rut.
Poor Liz was thrown off and her forehead was cut.
A voice from the crowd called out, “I know first aid!
I learnt it at work with the Fire Brigade.”

He tended her wound and gazed into her eyes.
Then Elizabeth felt, with a little surprise,
Her heart miss a beat and her cheeks all aglow,
With a trace of excitement beginning to grow.
Her hero was helping her up from the dyke.
One arm round her waist and one hand for her bike.

A romance grew then, as it very well might,
Now they meet, without fail, each Saturday night.
He comes from Barnes on the eight o’clock train.
She cycles to meet him, along Egham Lane
And what is the name of this heroic chap?
It’s Horatio Wellington Hannibal Trapp!


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