Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

(7 September 1876 - 22 June 1938 / Auburn, South Australia)

Why A Picnic, Jane? - Poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

But, why a picnic, Jane? We went last year,
And missed the Cup; and you know how you grieved
Because we lost - Oh! yes, you did, my dear.
I had the tip, but I was not believed.
It's just sheer nonsense to deny it all.
And when he won, you said, if you recall,
You'd never miss a chance like that again.
Well, cut the Cup. But why a picnic, Jane?

You know how I hate picnics - sticky things
The grizzling children and the dusty road,
The flies and all those crawlywigs with stings
My dear, I'm not selfish! But that load
Of baskets - Eh? Back him at starting price?
That's an idea. And then I could remain
To take you and the children? - M'yes. Quite nice.
Jolly, of course. But, why a picnic, Jane?

Wait! Have you thought of burglars? There you are!
The empty house. Remember that last case
Near here? ... Bright thought, my dear! You take the car.
You've solved it. I'll stay at home and mind the place.
Lonely? Not I. You take the car, of course.
I've a good book; I'll be all right alone.
That's settled then ... And now, about the horse.
Wait here, and while I think of it, I'll phone.

'Lo! That you, Sam? All set! I can't talk loud.
'Lo! can you hear me? Listen, lad. It's on.
Tomorrow, yes. Count me in the crowd.
Your car - about eleven. They'll be gone.
Great stunt, that picnic! If we make the pace
We ought to get there for the second race.
Well, Jane, that's all fixed up. I've backed our horse.
Eh? Help cut sandwiches? Why, dear, of course.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 30, 2012



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