I joined the party at the right time, so it seems,

for even now, Shirley Bassey in an old Hob

Nail boot makes me smile, Glenda Jackson

as black wigged Cleopatra, Michael Parkinson dancing

with Eddie Waring, up and under, a small shilly-shally

to the songs of South Pacific

prove their ain’t nothing like Eric and Ernie

at the very top of their game.

Forgive me Mr. Morecambe, Mister Wise,

for not writing before, been in a nostalgia fog,

but if I could ask

for your autographs now, I still would smile

broadly whilst I did so,

for in your humour, I loved you;

although television makes me cross

and not worthy of all my time

I will stop all I have to do if I hear your theme music,

make me smile, bring me laughter

all the time, and revel for a while in what we miss,

a personal honour I bestow on so very few.

Thanks, Mister Wise, Mr. Morecambe,

for all you gave a five year old boy,

thanks for all you give to his forty-six

year old replacement bus

driven fan, you were

and remain the best,

 

Yours faithfully…

in laughter.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017