Oh Yes It Is
sometimes i feel like a pantomime cow,
struggling to stand on my own two feet.
stay with me, love, till we take our bow.
you’re half of me. you make me complete.
One of the things I’ve not yet mentioned on this year’s Advent Calendar – but one of the reasons why I fired it up again for another year, despite declaring last year’s would be the last – is that I’m currently Mayor. Yes, I know, and as I say to everybody who asks, I find it as surprising as you do.
I’ll spare you too many of the bureaucratic details for now, but I thought that being Mayor over Advent – and let me tell you, it’s a busy time for a Mayor! – might get a few poetic juices flowing, as I’ll be lucky enough to experience certain things that I wouldn’t otherwise. One such event was today, when I was invited to the Oxford Playhouse pantomime as a guest of the Oxfordshire Freemasons.
Each year, they book out a matinee performance and pay for hundreds of local children, who for various reasons wouldn’t normally get much of a chance to experience the magic of theatre, to go to the panto. And each year, they invite the various Mayors and Chairs of the county (collectively known as “The Chain Gang”) to join them for a pre-show lunch, cup of tea, and general hobnobbing. I’ve never been much of a hobnobber but I famously love a trip to the theatre, so it was a no-brainer.
And let me tell you, a hoot was had by all. I knew my time as Mayor of Witney would involve the solemnity of Remembrance Sunday, and sometimes the tedium of certain Council committee meetings, but I never expected it to involve watching an admirably-energetic cast singing “Come On Eileen” to a pantomime cow. Let alone “If You Leave Me, Cow, You Take Away The Biggest Part Of Me.”
It’s only since I wrote today’s poem on the bus on the way home that the thought has occurred to me that the traditional farmyard livestock depicted in this fashion is actually a horse, not a cow. But never mind, I’ve written the poem now, and today’s panto featured a pantomime cow quite heavily, and above all else, horse doesn’t rhyme with bow. So there.
It’s not the best poem I’ve ever written, and it’s certainly not the longest, but I think of it as a sort of festive cousin to Roger McGough‘s iconic “Vinegar”, a similarly bite-sized bit of verse but one that nonetheless has more than stood the test of time since he first published it in 1967.
Think of it as a tribute to Jack and the Beanstalk, and all who brought it to life (and then some) for a very appreciate matinee audience, and also to the Oxfordshire Freemasons for their generosity. Cheers all.
Pull the udder one. Twenty days to go…
Owen x
The Poetry Advent Calendar 