Pride'n'Prejudice

I've polished my soupҫon of French
I've polished my piano
I've polished  whoops! - the kitchen floor
And made a mushroom flan; oh,
And I've been searching for a mate.
I cannot even get a date.

It's hard to be a heroine
Transported from the past
When manners were so different;
Indeed the gulf is vast;
But if I don't hold to my own tenet
My name is not Elizabeth Bennett.

My problem may be prejudice
Or pride - though I may mellow -
In finding out what I must do
To capture me a fellow;
Romance today is much more serious.
It surely is enough to weary us.

But I haven't been around the world;
I haven't been too flighty
Forget the altogether 
No one's seen me in my nightie;
And if he did he'd surely get a slap.
No wonder I can't get a chap.

But I can cook and I can sew
And I can trim the garden
And with my brand new secateurs
I oh! I beg your pardon -
To some man's heart, could bring great joy, friend.
Perhaps I'll never find a boyfriend.

But my little finger and my voice
Have just the right inflexion
And with my silken parasol
I guard my pale complexion.
I cannot think what else to do.
Except to get a big tattoo.

I learned to dance the minuet
And watercolour sketching
And in my crinoline and muff
I look absurdly fetching,
But they say that in this get-up I
Look too absurd to get a guy.

Though I don't smoke and I don't drink
I'm quite the modern female
And when I find my new quill pen -
What speakest thou of email? -
It will surely aid my plan
To find ye twenty-first century man;

But before I pen a new romance,
To give my search some welly,
I need to make some notes on life
From what they call the telly:
To update my romantic hopes
It seems I need to watch the Soaps.

Oh dear. It seems that times have changed
From the days of dear Jane Austen;
Though Mr Darcy still can thrill
From Basingstoke to Boston;
And yet - O! Tempora! O! Mores! -
There are no more romantic stories.

Of course two hundred years ago
I had the help of Mother;
But she has been transported too
And is looking for a lover;


Is this then to be my fate -
With dear Mama to double-date?

© 2012 ANN FARMER