The Colonel And The Memsab Poem by Owen Cullimore

As they sat on the veranda of the Hotel Exotic
Drinking the old G & T
Between reminiscing their lifelong romance
And the occasional hot pot of Tea
Old Colonel Maguire, of the old Forty-Fifth
The regiment now long disbanded
To listen to his tales of gallantry and battles fought
You would have thought he had beaten the Fuzzy-Wuzzies, single handed
During their time in the Sudan, under Kitchener I believe
Leading his regiment into battle almost daily
But Mrs Maguire, now well past her prime
Just smiled a lot and ranted quite gaily
As they talked about things from so long ago
When he was a dashing lieutenant, so daring and brave
And she looked so radiant in her best Sunday dress
In those days men knew how to behave
An officer and a gentleman was the order of the day
No bad language, not a hair out of place
The Memsab in turn, at his side everywhere
Travelled along at her own steady pace
When a dashing young officer, named Captain O'Rourke
Took a fancy to the Memsab, so elegant and beautiful she did look
Fisticuffs ensued the night at the Kings welcoming ball
The like, of which you only find written a book
A few raised words of the jealous kind
And a slap with a glove, accompanied with the threat of a duel
As things get mightily out of hand
With the Memsab lighting the fuel

The Colonel and O'Rourke squaring up on the lawn
Like two prize-fighters ready to do battle
For them nothing unseemly as pistols at dawn
No sound of a flashing Sabre's rattle
The Memsab, just watched, smiled and then turned away
Leaving the Colonel to do what he thought was his duty
To defend his wife's honour, good name and all
Against a Captain who had got a bit fruity
After a few punches, and blood running noses
No Pistols or Swords anywhere in sight
Te altercation was quickly dispersed
And everyone disappeared in to the night
Such was life in the old Regiment
Everyone was upright and true
The old colonel with his stiff upper lip
Whose language frequently turned the air, blue?
But the Memsab, still as pretty as she was in her youth
Her tight dress still caught the men's eyes
But by now age was catching her up
Along with the heat and the flies
But still together, and in love, as they had always been
Holding hands by the light of the moon
With still a spark in their eyes, or was it a sty
Who knows, it's hard to tell in the dark evening gloom