No Medals for the Subaltern
I’m Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
Hunting a husband in Aldershot sun.
I’ve the pick of the barracks; but all that I’ve found
Is this limp little poet who just hangs around.
He’s useless at tennis and very poor too
At seduction and such. If the best he can do
Is to sit in the car park till twenty to one
He’ll not get engaged to this Joan Hunter Dunn.
So please, Mr. Betjeman, let me escape
To a poem containing some pillage and rape
Where men are hot blooded — say, maybe, a piece
Like Eskimo Nell or The Rape of Lucrece.
Martin Parker wanted to be a poet but has had to settle for light verse instead. Author of two Chapbooks and the Editor of Lighten Up Online
, more of his own verse can be found on www.martinparker-verse.co.uk
. Being of advanced age, he is currently preparing his first posthumous collection.