Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec 1861-1904
French Painter, Printer, Draughtsman and Illustrator
Song Of A Night-Club Proprietress
I walked into the night-club in the morning;
There was kummel on the handle of the door.
The ashtrays were unemptied,
The cleaning unattempted,
And a squashed tomato sandwich on the floor.
I pulled aside the thick magenta curtains
- Regency, so Regency, my dear -
And a host of little spiders
Ran a race across the ciders
To a box of baby 'pollies by the beer.
Oh sun upon the summer-going by-pass
Where everything is speeding to the sea,
And wonder beyond wonder
That here where lorries thunder
The sun should ever percolate to me.
When Boris used to call in his Sedanca,
When Teddy took me down to his estate
When my nose excited passion,
When my clothes were in the fashion,
When my beaux were never cross if I was late,
There was sun enough for lazing upon beaches,
There was fun enough for far into the night,
But I'm dying now and done for,
What on earth was all the fun for?
For I'm old and ill and terrified and tight.
"Poet and Hack"
I have decided to lighten the tone of my August Selection.
There will be more Light Verse during the Holiday Month.