Dear Mr. Bracegirdle,
A Love Poem
Dear Mr. Bracegirdle, I declare,
I care not that you have no hair,
Sweet man, you have what really counts,
And have it in such large amounts!
Those chubby cheeks,
Those bright blue eyes,
That tubby tum,
Those thunder thighs!
Ah, what more could a woman want?
Of information you're a font.
Need good advice on how to carve?
Or where to go for ironed scarves?
A pair of stockings in a pinch?
(May have to take them in an inch.)
A clean white shirt or tie your tie?
Our Bracie's such a helpful guy!
My compliments to Captain Pellew
Now there's a man what knows good value!
>From flying shot you wish to hide?
A first lieutenenant, extra wide,
Well placed upon the guarterdeck.
Will come in handy , I expect!
Horatio is whippet thin,
And Kennedy he packs it in,
Both dashing heroes, truth to tell,
The uniform does suit them well,
But to my mind there is no doubt,
My, darling Bracie fills it out!
Don't try to trim your shape, my sweet,
Don't take to jogging 'round the fleet,
Nor count the calories you eat,
(The mathematics of defeat!)
Not meant to be a skinny spar,
I love you just the way you are!
In truth there is, to my belief,
No finer hunk of British beef!
>From shiny pate to dimpled bum,
All I can say is "GIVE ME SOME!"