Another Ode – not rude this time!

November 26, 2012

One of the things I like about having a celebration to mark an occasion is the opportunity for people to say something. To publically appreciate the person or persons who are being feted. Too often it is left until funeral eulogies to tell someone what an impact they have had and how much you appreciate them. In Wales it is the norm for random people to stand up and speak at weddings , not just the bride’s father and best man, and similarly at funerals there are often numerous bon mots and toasts to the dear departed. And I would like more of that in life. So here is the Ode I wrote for my husband, it was not the main event – that was left to our son. This was just giving the audinece the background to the man before them 🙂

Ode on the Occasion of Richard’s 50th

And so the time has come at last
For me to talk of Richard's life
First his thirty fairly wasted years
Until he met his wife

So Richard Francis Clarke was born
And much to Mum's dismay
He arrived way past his given date
Of great St Patrick's Day

For years he hardly spoke at all,
Needing therapy to speak
But now there are the times indeed
We've wished his tongue more weak

His mother she was bright as pie
A whizz at mental maths
At 14 straight in service
And no exams to pass

His father, who I hardly met,
Was a jockey and worked quarries
Teaching Laurence Olivier how to ride
Then driving Rich in lorries

An altar boy, an athlete
A cricketer as well,
Academeic and a rugby star
He always did excel.

So off to Bradford where he met,
Some friends who'd change his life
A girl he lived with for ten years
And a man who found his wife

And Bradford was a riot.
As president, Biol Soc,
And organising lots of bands
Drugs, sex, n, roll, n rock

And so to research scientist
He continued student years
Writing crosswords, quizzes, horoscopes
And knocking back the beers

His easy Hampstead life was based
Mostly in The Flask,
Would Richard like to go for lunch?
You didn't have to ask

Meantime of course he had met me
His best mate's girl stroke wife
And as a foursome we did have
A full-on party life

Without going in to details, 
The pairings tore apart
We split from our respective halves
And you stole away my heart

Amidst all of this kerfuffle,
You came to live with me
You lodger in my London house - 
Miss Jones to my Rigby

You change careers and start to train
Just as we move to Ealing
We're married, broke and pregnant
Oh what a lovely feeling!

And then he starts to meet you all
Who are all gifts beyond compare
As life without true friendship
Would surely be despair

He is always keen to socialise
He is loyal, he is sage
He's a real attention-seeker
Who doesn't act his age

Today's a celebration
To say we love you and well done
And so to make the toast I pass
You over to our son...


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