The Savoy Hotel Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Who stayed at the glitzy Savoy Hotel? Folk known to the rumour mills
This grand hotel housed Oscar Wilde and his six thousand pound drink bills

Built off the Strand in London, in eighteen eighty nine
It opened its doors to a fanfare, like a ship of the Royal line

It had William Morris wallpaper, red carpets, hydraulic lifts,
An emergency electricity plant, staff covering all day shifts

The Savoy had a chocolaterie, a bakery producing bread
A coffee roastery, printing press, its aim: full steam ahead

The whisky heir, Tom Dewar, checked in for 40 years.
Monet & Whistler painted, there, in that place of powerful peers

Royalty, Frank Sinatra, Noel Coward and Miss Munroe,
Enjoyed the panorama, of London spread below
Where the River Thames flows regal, past the walkways and the bars
And the Savoy's lit like Xmas with a plethora of stars

Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Olivier, Bogart &Garland came
With Chaplin, Churchill, Caruso, from the visitors' book of fame

The jazzman, Louis Armstrong, needed a soundproofed room
Mae West brought a fleet of dresses, a flotilla with za za zoom

The millionaire George A. Kessler hosted a "Gondola Party"
The central courtyard was flooded, the secenery was arty
When Venice came to the Savoy, Enrico Caruso sang
A five foot birthday cake arrived and from it an elephant sprang

Once, a small plane entered the Savoy, and into the foyer flew
Real swans died in a fountain, when poison turned water blue

Here, was a famous murder, a crime of passion and fear
Here a motor launch is available, to take parties to the Pier

H.G.Wells, George Bernard Shaw, Errol Flynn, Maria Callas
The Savoy's their choice of anchorage, for the schmooze in this A-list palace

Here, is the hotel mascot, Kaspar, the fourteenth guest
A two-foot high art-deco cat with a napkin tied on his chest
Will you sample the Savoy's dishes, the famous Melba toast?
The omelette Arnold Bennett, roast sea bream from the coast?

The Savoyfilled up a bathtub, with wild goat's milk for a guest
Baked Hereford snails in garlic is a much more common request

There's a rose named after this grand hotel, light pinkfrom the hybrid camp
And Farting Lane, at a side entrance was a gas destroyer lamp

Centuries before, on this same spot, it stood as an ancient palace
The Canterbury Tales were written there, in a time ofmonk and chalice

If Chaucer was writing here today, what would his characters be?
Thestaff, the guests from around the world from the stage of celebrity!