Isabel Makes Love (Jake Thackray) Isabel makes love up on national monuments With style and enthusiasm and anyone at all. Isabel's done Stonehenge and the houses of Parliament But so far pretty Isabel's never played the Albert Hall. Many a monolith has seen Isabel Her bright hair in turmoil, her breasts' surging swell But unhappy Albert's so far denied The bright sight of Isabel going into her stride. The Fourth Bridge, the cenotaph, Balmoral and Wembly, The British Museum and the House of Lords. So many dicks in her National Trust catalogue But so far the Royal Albert Hall has not scored. Countless cathedrals can now proudly show Where Isabel's pretty shoulder blades once briefly reposed. But miserable Albert is still waiting for The imprint of Isabel on his parquet floor. At Westminster Abbey she lay on a cold tombstone The meat in a sandwich of monumental love. Old pole-faced Wordsworth unblinking beneath them, A bright-eyed young Archdeacon breathless above. Many a stoney-faced statue has flickered its eyes And swayed to the rhythm of her little panting cries But wretched old Albert never yet has known Isabel's pretty whinnying to echo 'round his dome. On the last night of the promenade she waved to the conductor, And there and then on the podium with scarcely a pause, With a smile and a wave and a loud "Rule Britannia!" She completed her collection to enormous applause. Rapturous Albert now knows full well He's captured forever the elusive Isabel. Prettily disheveled but firmly installed, And faithful forevermore to the Royal Albert Hall. No more frantic scramblings up the dome of St Paul, No more dank ramblings on Hadrian's wall. With form and enthusiasm and anyone at all Isabel makes love at the Royal Albert Hall. Copyright Jake Thackray RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!