The Boat (Doggerel)

I thought I’d do something light and fun. It’s been ages since I wrote doggerel (intentionally), so I thought, why not?

The Boat

I will ever enjoy to recall that fair day
‘Mid the birds and the bees we went out in a boat,
We pushed off from the shore with our anchors away
And the River Thames carried us far-off afloat;

How romantic the moment inspires me to shudder
Each sparkle on the sheen-like water as I rowed,
Pulling hard on my oar seeing you at the other,
Floating in a dream ‘neath Dunnings Bridge Street road;

And bobbing along to a dingaling dong
As the church in the graveyard its bell it did ring,
Gulls crowed overhead and the sparrows fled in song
Till the river we to Westminster did bring;

And just out of chance the Archbishop was there
On the banks of the Thames out in front of the Abbey,
So we asked him to wed us right then in a prayer
And the kind vicar agreed we two to marry;

Now its been forty years since we made our vows
And the old boat sank long moons ago,
But the birds and the bees are still flying in clouds
Though its winter right now and all’s covered with snow;

So hark you young lovers who down river go
To be wed by the bishop on river bank’s track,
The current is fast so be warned and know:
It’s nice going down but it’s hell all the way back!

Pierre Auguste Renoir

The Wedding (2 Sonnets)

Eros (Greek Cupid) and Anteros.
Image: durango.net.mx

Wedding Invitation

I must confess my acumen is witless
To thwart the hex by which I am possessed,
To which these presents bear conclusive witness
By virtue of to whom they are addressed;
For though my want continues in delighting
To freely roam among the blooming flowers,
My will no longer finds the jaunt exciting,
My passion’s bent usurped by stronger powers;
For Anteros (the Greek) has worked injustice
And filled both she and I with like devotion,
And you alone, dear Cupid, my accomplice,
Can spite his dart and nullify the potion.
The wedding’s at the church beside the river,
Be sure to bring lead-arrows in your quiver!

Wedding Epilogue

Imagine, if you will, my situation,
Delivered by Anteros to the altar,
When prompted to assent the consecration
My spell-besotted tongue declined to falter!
Yet in that blessed moment of despair
A-heel of my I do’s reverberation,
Your leaden-arrow sped to my repair
And doused the flame of my infatuation.
Your second shot, dear Cupid, went askew,
And, missing my betrothed, it smote his reverence
Who, when my clarion Not! provoked ado,
Expressed his just approval of our severance:
My Son, he said, the devil has you fair,
But better damned in Hell than wed to her!