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Jilted
JILTED
He stood there at the altar,
The best man by his side,
Awaiting the arrival
Of his beautiful, blushing bride.
The vicar was getting anxious:
They should have started at four.
The organist extemporised,
Until she appeared at the door.
An usher kept a lookout
For the bridal limousine
But came back in and told them
It was nowhere to be seen
At five o’clock they gave up
And everyone filed from the church,
Leaving the groom to ponder
Why he’d been left in the lurch.
But she hadn’t meant to jilt him,
He found, after making some calls.
For he had been at St. Andrew’s
And she had gone to St’ Paul’s
Copyright ©
Bryn Strudwick
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