AYRES, Pam

Yes, I’ll marry you my dear

Yes, I’ll marry you, my dear.

And here’s the reason why.

So I can push you out of bed,

When the baby starts to cry.

And if we hear a knocking,

And it’s creepy and it’s late,

I hand you the torch, you see,

And you investigate.

Yes I’ll marry you, my dear,

You may not apprehend it,

But when the tumble-drier goes

It’s you that has to mend it.

You have to face the neighbour

Should our labrador attack him,

And if a drunkard fondles me

It’s you that has to whack him.

Yes, I’ll marry you, my dear,

You’re virile and you’re lean,

My house is like a pigsty

You can help to keep it clean.

That little sexy dinner

Which you served by candlelight,

As I just do chipolatas,

You can cook it every night!!!

It’s you who has to work the drill

And put up curtain track,

And when I’ve got PMT, it’s you who gets the flak,

I do see great advantages,

But none of them for you,

And so, before you see the light,

I DO, I DO, I DO!!

Woodland Burial

Don’t lay me in some gloomy churchyard shaded by a wall

Where the dust of ancient bones has spread a dryness over all,

Lay me in some leafy loam where, sheltered from the cold

Little seeds investigate and tender leaves unfold.

There kindly and affectionately, plant a native tree

To grow resplendent before God and hold some part of me.

The roots will not disturb me as they wend their peaceful way

To build the fine and bountiful, from closure and decay.

To seek their small requirements so that when their work is done

I’ll be tall and standing strongly in the beauty of the sun.