Charlie’s Poems 4

                    The Best Man              (A Fact)


‘Twas whispered around that a wedding was pending,

          And rumour puts me as the man next the groom;

All morning I fought with a collar unbending

          Then dressed like a lord I went out to my doom.


Arrayed like a king in a mantle of glory,

          I joined with a throng that was happy and gay,

And for once the old clothes that were moss-grown and hoary

          To which I still clung, in a lumber room lay.


I fretted and fumed in the stiffest of collars,

          In agonies name I swore hard at those shoes

And solemnly vowed that for millions of dollars

          The name of ‘Best Man’ ne’er again would I use.


I crept into church in a frenzy of terror,

          I gave up the ring with a trembling hand

I was fearful of making the tiniest error

          For a little mistake would spread far o’er the land


At last the dread act  was done with and over,

          And off to the cafe our motor-cars sped;

A right bust up was laid – I thought I was in clover

          But shyness prevailing I ate nothing instead.


An evening of fun and music and dancing –

          But the ‘Best Man’ lay hid in an out of way place

And dreamed of his bike and the byways entrancing

          While the dancing and frolics grew faster apace.


I was dressed like a tramp in clothes moss-grown and hoary,

          And pedalled along at the back of the day

And yesterday’s fear, with that mantle of glory,

          Unwanted and lost, in a lumber room lay.

                                                                                          June 1925

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