SCRIBBLERS INN

A response to a Notice from a Friend
advising of an Exhibition of her Paintings in Albuquerque, USA

My Dearest C. it was so kind
Of you to keep me in your mind
In thinking I might like to view
Those very thoughtful paintings you
-Your delicate, expressive hand-
Are showing by the Rio Grande
(That broad unending surging flow
That pours to the Gulf of Mexico)
A place to which I cannot get
My wings aren’t fully sprouted yet,
I’m two weeks short of ninety eight
And my walking frame is second-rate.

Fine paintings bring their painters fame
As honoured by the painting so the name.
That Rubens, masterly, sincere
Painted a ladies ample rear,
A ticklish business I’ve no doubt,
Which most of us could do without.
Deservedly it took first prize
In the ‘Bum of the Year show’ for its size.
Its reputation is secure
As the one with the painters signature
World wide its appeal is strong
It draws a fascinated throng
Standing rigid with amaze,
The Godly with reverential gaze
Breathless with adoration
As one of the Wonders of Creation

Mike Angelo was called to grapple
With painting ceilings (Sistine Chapel)
A job most working chaps would frown on
But luck was what poor Mike was down on
Short of cash, he had to earn it
A lousy job but he couldn’t spurn it
Bending this way, lying flat
Squeezing this way, squirming that
Kneeling on rheumatic knees
With very little time for teas
But poor Mike had to face the facts,
Union rules were somewhat lax
And afterwards as was expected
He had to have his neck corrected
And blobs of paint scraped off his tongue
Before they reached his inner lung.
A high placed Cardinal gave him hope
And blessed his wages envelope
For such a job, so foul and blistery
His name’s come down to us in History

A French painter of high ideal
Whose name my memory won’t reveal
Found the social situation
Was giving him much aggravation,
Two centuries after the Revolution
To Poverty still no solution !
The concept of egalite
Was lost in its totality
A degrading social issue such
That most had little, few had much.
In heat he painted a picnic scene
On a foreground of vivid green,
A bunch of greedy picnic eaters
Back of them not 15 metres
A sad and lonesome little bitch
Sitting there without a stitch.
Not one of those pigs would venture near
With “Would you care for a biscuit, Dear?”
It’s clear to see the general vote is
“Not our business, take no notice”.
Ladies clothed by Schiaparelli,
And one unclothed with empty belly!
It is not fair, it is not right
‘Lord, make the people see the light!
Old Robespierre, has had his day –
It’s ‘Vive Escoffier!’ all the way.

A copy hangs, foretelling doom
In the Bank of England’s committee room
‘You men in suits, with urge to rule us
All the Time you can not fool us!’

Surprised at my extensive knowledge?
Its years since I attaended college!
Nor gotten from the media,
I have an encyclopaedia!

This typing has been done for me,
There’s little now that I can see.
Georgina has come down from the North,
An angel said to her “go forth”
You’ll be directed to a Nutter
Who has a frenzied need to utter
His vapid thoughts on widest range
Before he reaches Climate Change
Gina sits here, types with ease
Her laptop resting on her knees,
Its faultless work, no need review it,
(In any case I couldn’t do it).

So Dearest C- may I advise
To carry on - you’re very wise
For humble minds, it’s awful hard
To come to grips with Avant-Garde.
But, honestly I’m doing my best
I have the deepest interest
For you I have a wild ovation
Your exploits give me inspiration
How wonderful to fly at will
To Albuquerque from Notting Hill!
Don’t hide yourself, the world should see
Your talents in their symmetry

My fervent hope is fame should lurk
For you
In Albuquerque.