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Me and Mrs Robinson

We tumbled down the mountain in a ball of laughing joy;
She was Mrs. Robinson and I was Jack the boy.
Arms and legs all tangled as we rolled and whooped and laughed.
The farmer saw us hurtle by – he thought us bold and daft.

But neither of us cared for we had found a place to share;
A secret glade in which to lie and breathe the fragrant air.
The glade was half the distance from the hilltop to the town;
A flat plateau of secret bliss; a natural eiderdown.

We landed in the roughage at the entrance to our nest,
And once our panting laughter had subsided we undressed.
Naked in our haven we lay close as we could get,
And we loved each other deeply till the sun had all but set.

“Jack?” she whispered sweetly in the dewy evening light,
“My husband knows. He’ll kill us. We must run away tonight.
“Let’s run away forever to the land across the sea,
“Where the olive vines grow lush and there are fruits on every tree.”

I looked at her and marvelled at her beauty in the dark,
While somewhere further down the hill a dog began to bark.
“That’s our Collie, Jack. It means my husband’s found us out.”
And Mrs. Robinson was right, for now there came a shout.

“Gill, you dirty whore! I know you’re here. Come out now!
“Don’t make me come and find you. Don’t make me mop my brow.”
Mrs. Robinson was shaking, fear in her heart.
I held her close and whispered, “We will never be apart.”

And then I rose and, naked, filled my lungs with foggy air.
The moon spilled silver light across my body and my hair.
“It’s time for you to go now, Mr Robinson,” I said.
“Gill will never be with you. She’d rather she was dead.

“You never loved her like a wife. You don’t know how to love.
“By all things made in nature and the heavens up above,
“I tell you now to turn around and walk the way you came.
“Gill is not a trophy or a creature you can claim.”

Mr Robinson stood still as if he’d turned to stone.
“Where is she?” he thundered out. “I know you’re not alone.”
“No, he’s not alone,” said Mrs. Robinson aloud.
“He’s the man I want to be with, and to say it makes me proud.”

Mr Robinson looked long upon his naked wife,
“Well then, Mr Grocery Boy, it’s time to end your life.
“Lucky thing I brought the iron bar to bash your head.
“It’s quick and by the time you hit the ground you will be dead.”

And then he lunged at me and swung his metal in the moon.
Mrs. Robinson cried out and fell into a swoon.
I dodged him once. He came again and took another swing.
The collie ran around us, panic-stricken, in a ring.

Mr Robinson was out to spill my blood that night.
I could have run away but I chose to stay and fight.
The woman that I loved was lying naked on the slope.
If I ran away I might as well abandon all my hope.

So by her side I stayed and dodged the metal and the man.
I ran him in a merry dance until the day began.
In and out the bushes and the flowers and the tress,
Until the man, exhausted, fell in shame upon his knees.

Mrs. Robinson was sleeping soundly in the Sun.
I pulled her to her feet and told her day had now begun.
I was tired half to sleep. She was half awake.
So rolling down the hillside seemed an easy choice to make.

I landed at the bottom with my head upon the slate.
The folk from town had seen it all - they made the tale great.
The priest sent Mr Robinson on pilgrimage afar;
His penance for attempt upon my life with iron bar.

We had to tell a falsehood to the Robinson’s young daughter;
That Jack and Gill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.
That Jack fell down and broke his crown and Gill came tumbling after.
And the tale always ended with our nakedness and laughter.

© Simon Welsh Poetry 25th February 2010





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