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Another piece of juvenilia
Found inside an old green folder
Based on Song of Hiawatha
(That based on the Kalevala)
Print from old dot matrix printer
Scanned and OCR converted
Copied here for your amusement
Because your blogger can’t be bothered
Can’t be arsed to write some new stuff …

by Dai Wandsworth Lowefellow

In an attic, over Cindy’s,
High above the streets of Warwick,
Standing by a red-hot oven;
Working wonders by the oven,
Stands the lovely Alexandra
Cooking fillet steak with peppers;
Cookinq Dover sole with prawns on;
Cooking chicken, tender poussin.

In the restaurant below her;
In the room one flight below her,
Is a paradise for taste buds,
Known throughout the town of Warwick;
Spoken of in tones of wonder;
Tones of reverential wonder:
Called by men, Upstairs at Cindy’s.

Here, the atmosphere informal;
Here, the ambience relaxing;
Here, the menu unpretentious,
Boasts the most exciting starters;
Boasts the most amazing dishes,
Served with freshest veg or salad
(Take your choice of veg or salad).
Take your choice from Cindys wine list:
Short in length but high in standard;
Every single one a winner.
(But be warned ye novice diners,
Ye of little viniculture,
There’s no point in seeking guidance;
Guidance from the friendly garçon;
From the ever-helpful David:
“Wine? That’s not my cup of tea, sir;
“Strictly heap big beer drinker.”)

Hot the fat to cook the french fries;
Cook the crisp and golden french fries
(How down-market, cooking french fries).
Still the lovely Alexandra;
Still the lonely unsung hero
Bending to the diners’ wishes,
Cooks the crisp and golden french fries;
Cooks the leeks and fresh zucchini
(Courgettes, also called zucchini:
‘Courgettes’ didn’t fit the metre):
Conjures up delicious flavours;
Conjures up the choicest dishes;
For discerning folk in Warwick.

‘Er upstairs, the unsung hero,
As instructed by her husband:
He, the ever helpful waiter;
He, the one who takes the orders;
Takes them up to Alexandra:
He who waits on grateful diners;
Waits for them to drink their coffee —
Hopes they’ll finish off their coffee;
Go before the Red Lion closes:
Soon, before the Red Lion closes,
Freeing him to have a quick one:
Davenport’s best fire-water
(All right then, a pint of bitter),
While the lovely Alexandra;
Still the lonely unsung hero,
Smokes a fag and does the dishes,
High above the streets Warwick,
In an attic over Cindy’s.