PROUD PATRICIA PARKINSON
by
Lesley Gordon

Before 'Children's Hour' begins
For singles, triplets and for twins
Before that hour (You mean three quarters)
For eager listeners' sons and daughters
I'm asked to give an S.O.S.
You're sure you'd like to hear it?

( Chorus of Aunts and Uncles... 'Yes!' )

Missed from her home in Kensington
Is proud Patricia Parkinson
At half-past eight on June the third
She disappeared without a word
And though Patricia's nursemaid Jane
Thinks she has fallen down a drain
And though Patricia's nursemaid might
Be proved in time to be quite right
Further enquiries must be made
‘Stolen or Otherwise Mislaid'
'One child, Patricia Parkinson
Of Queens Gate Gardens, Kensington
Distinguishing marks or features, none
Resembles more a currant bun
Than almost anybody could
Blue eyes, whose team-work is not good
Nose tilted at forty-five degrees
And noticeably knobby knees
And that is almost all that one can
Say of Patsy Parkinson
But should you find her, send her back
To London, care of 'Uncle Mac.'
And doubtless now you long to hear
Of Patsy Parkinson's career
What caused this signal of distress?
You'd like to hear her story?

( Chorus of Aunts and Uncles... 'Yes!'

Patricia was an only child
And at her birth the fates had smiled
Her infant mouth, too young to croon
Was simply stuffed with silver spoon
And no one noticed that her nose
Immersed in lace and ribbon bows
Tilted at forty-five degrees
A baby beacon in the breeze
When in her pram she'd stare ahead
Cutting other babies dead
She'd never join their childish prattle
Nor chew some other infant's rattle
So month by month and year by year
Her step grew firm, her eyes grew clear
And, though their team-work wasn't good
She stared as proudly as she could
Nose at an angle set to sneeze
Tilted at forty-five degrees
Neighbours began to say aloud
'Patricia Parkinson's that proud.'
And hinted with a touch of gall
That pride was bound to have a fall.
And someboby was heard to tell
How Patsy's head was bound to swell.
And so it did, by slow degrees
'And has the child been stung by bees?
Or has she got an aching tooth?
Oh tell us please, the dreadful truth,'
Her mother to the doctor cried
'This bloated look we can't abide.'
'Madam,' the worthy doctor said,
'A bad attack of swollen head,
Brought on by being too stuck up
Incurable,' said Dr Tupp.
'A simple case to diagnose
One glance, directed at the nose
Tilted at forty-five degrees
Is proof enough - two guineas, please.'
A sadder case I never knew
For more and more the swelling grew
Until Patricia's haughty mien
Resembled now a soup tureen
A day, a week, and very soon
Her head was like a large balloon
'Til captured by a vagrant breeze
She sailed aloft beyond the trees.
A cry! a shriek! and she was gone
Oh, poor Patricia Parkinson
So should you find the wretched girl
Caught up upon your aerial
We beg that you will send her back
To London, care of 'Uncle Mac'
That finishes the S.O.S.
I hope you liked the story?

( Chorus of Aunts and Uncles... 'Yes!'

The end