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ELLY MAY


poem by: Maria Williams

T'was the night before her birthday and Elly May
Still in the office putting stuff away
In her horn rimmed glasses and grey flannel suit
She was the epitome of perfection, the essence of truth

She was the best secretary that they'd ever had
 They had sure gone to pieces after that Yorkshire lad
 Elly May had filed and tidied and worked like a slave
For her two grisly bosses Mr Smith and McKnave

After ten long years in this office so dim
In her grey flannel suit, the atmosphere grim
She needed some new clothes, she needed a rise
She needed an optometrist to check on her eyes

Poor Elly  May paused and leaned on her file
 She closed her eyes and wondered awhile
 She dwelled on the hardships and hurdles she'd crossed
In her pursuit of dreams -and the hopes that she'd lost
That tall handsome stranger never did come her way
And he never ever will thought poor Elly May

The day dawned ,the birds sang 'twas a beautiful morn
But Elly May wished she'd never been born
Her rice bubbles refused to Snap Crackle and Pop
Her feet felt like lead and her hair like a mop

RING Ring went the doorbell, gosh a special delivery
Elly May bit her lip and went all shivery
The package looked expensive with a lovely red bow
Its a mistake thought she its not for me No
it was clearly addressed to her -No mistake
Her heart was pounding and she started to quake

She managed to get the wrapping undone
And wondered aloud whose heart she had won
She hoped upon hope'twas no cruel joke
Or some silly dream from which she'd not woke

And there it was midst the tissue all satin and lace
a creation upon which she could only but gaze
Try it on compelled a voice-but there was no one there
She'd be late for work-should she? could she dare?
No card to say who it was from
Then with hands that trembled she slipped the dress on

How it oozed how it rustled how delicately it hung
How it shimmered and shone-how provocatively it clung
The waist nipped in the neck dipped low
she cut such a fine figure of which she didn't know
She was beautiful all along she thought with a sigh
She had lacked the nerve or the confidence to try
She'd  resigned herself to her terrible fate
Oh Fiddle Dee said that voice  Its never too late
Now make haste it continued There are things to be done
There are people to meet-that worlds full of fun
The first thing to do at a quarter to ten
Is to get on the phone to those two grissly men
Tell them where to get off you'll not be their slave
They'll fold up without you that Smith and McKnave

Years have gone by since that eventful day
That  magic morning saw the change of Elly May
Now she calls herself Ella - theres a smile on her lips
A song in her heart and a sway to her hips

Being a jet setter is not easy, her days are never grey
Its Paris by night and London by day
 But every now and again she thinks back with a shudder
Then silently gives thanks to her fairy Godmother


Written many moons ago for my daughter who wanted a modern day Cinderella story

Written and published in an Australian National Women's Magazine for whom I wrote motivational stories and poems intermittently.
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