When I attended a singles swingers party
With the great and the somewhat arty,
A young lady named Claire
Tied me up with Flair.
Those knots they were really quite arty!
When I attended a singles swingers party
With the great and the somewhat arty,
A young lady named Claire
Tied me up with Flair.
Those knots they were really quite arty!
A young lady known as Miss Ice
Has a reputation for not being nice.
Her real name is Coral
And she’s so very immoral!
But to me she’s always been nice …!
I met a group of young women
Who spoke of the joys of sinning.
But I, being shy
Hid in a pie
With the beautiful and talented Miss Winning!
When I met a young lady of Kampala
Who said, “I worked in a massage parlour”.
And I said, “but Coral!
You are so very moral!”.
She said, “they sacked me from that parlour …!”
When a rude and unfeeling young lad
Said, “your poems are so very bad!”.
I wept full sore
And said, “tell me more!”,
As I soundly thrashed that lad!
Whilst singing a very old hymn
I spied that sinful Miss Lin.
She spoke of pleasure
In the sweet heather,
And I stopped singing that hymn …
A couple of days ago, I joined a poetry session on Zoom. The theme of the readings was “the sea”. I read 2 poems, one of my own, and Matthew Arnold’s fine poem, Dover Beach, which has long been one of my favourites Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold | Poetry Foundation.
Looking out to sea in the company of an unnamed woman, Arnold is reminded of “the turbid ebb and flow of human misery”. “The sea of faith” was once a powerful force holding society together,
“… But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.”
Arnold sees love as the only way to deal with the decline of moral certitude and faith. Speaking to his lover who is looking out the window towards France with him, Arnold remarks,
“Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.”
After my reading there followed a discussion of Dover Beach. During the discussion someone mentioned that Anthony Hecht had written a parody of Arnold’s poem entitled The Dover Bitch. Being a curious soul I Googled Hecht’s poem https://poets.org/poem/dover-bitch.
In the poem Hecht imagines how Arnold’s lover felt as she was addressed on the subject of the decline of faith, whilst her mind was otherwise engaged
“Well now, I knew this girl. It’s true she had read
Sophocles in a fairly good translation
And caught that bitter allusion to the sea,
But all the time he was talking she had in mind
The notion of what his whiskers would feel like
On the back of her neck …”.
Hecht’s The Dover Bitch is certainly an amusing read, which is why I am sharing it here. I wonder will I ever be able to read Matthew Arnold’s Dover Beach in quite the same way again!
When Rose took all her clothes off
The dear old vicar began to cough.
The weather being cold
Rose was most bold!
And the vicar he developed a cough …!
When a young man named Dave
Decided to shave on a grave,
And a ghastly ghoul
Called him a fool,
He gave that knave a shave!
When Kafka went and wrote The Trial
They said, “there can be no denial
That this book is strange
And the characters quite deranged!
And this novel is called The Trial!”.