Tom Jones, Tom Jones, lend me your White Lion,
inky and grubby and quite uninspired,
the Valley Poets are coming to dine,
with mini Annie, lovely Myrtle, sister Jenny, smiling
Dougal, naughty Celia, Maggie me,
old Uncle, our Eddie, and all, old Uncle, our Eddie, and
all.
Tom Jones, Tom Jones, oh pity my plight,
inky and grubby and quite uninspired,
for I’m bound to write for this Saturday night,
with mini Annie, lovely Myrtle, sister Jenny, smiling
Dougal, naughty Celia, Maggie me,
old Uncle, our Eddie, and all, old Uncle, our Eddie, and
all.
Tom Jones, Tom Jones, it’s turning my brain,
inky and grubby and quite uninspired,
that damned second Saturday’s come round again,
with mini Annie, lovely Myrtle, sister Jenny, smiling
Dougal, naughty Celia, Maggie me,
old Uncle, our Eddie, and all, old Uncle, our Eddie, and
all.
Tom Jones, Tom Jones, what am I to do,
inky and grubby and quite uninspired?
I’ve nothing to read to that shambolic crew -
mini Annie, lovely Myrtle, sister Jenny, smiling Dougal,
naughty Celia, Maggie me,
old Uncle, our Eddie, and all, old Uncle, our Eddie, and
all.
Tom Jones, Tom Jones, the theme was quite clear,
inky and grubby and quite uninspired,
‘eat, drink and be merry’ - so why should I fear
mini Annie, lovely Myrtle, sister Jenny, smiling Dougal,
naughty Celia, Maggie me,
old Uncle, our Eddie, and all, old Uncle, our Eddie, and
all?
Tom Jones, Tom Jones, with the passing of time,
inky and grubby and quite uninspired,
the Residents’ Lounge will be haunted, in rhyme,
by mini Annie, lovely Myrtle, sister Jenny, smiling Dougal,
naughty Celia, Maggie me,
old Uncle, our Eddie, and all, old Uncle, our Eddie, and
all.
(the
Valley Poets’ Christmas dinner, 1985)
