Marilyn L. Taylor
Note: This poem is one of the side-effects of my out-of-control Anglophilia. I try not to do these things, but I know do. Mea culpa.
First Day in London
Notice how my voice has changed!
My vowels have broadened overnight;
Comes forth my syntax re-arranged
And all my r’s are out of sight.
I’ll chat you up, I’ll mind the gap,
I’ll not forget my bumbershoot;
I’d love to stay till Boxing Day—
My haversack is in the boot!
Let’s find a pub in Leicester Square;
We’ll down a pint, or maybe two,
Then toss a busker half a quid
And lose it on the Bakerloo.
I know. I know. It’s jolly clear
You’ll never take me for a Brit—
My accent? Just a tribute band
That’s longing for a cover hit.
© 2019 Marilyn L. Taylor
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