The fact that I have no memory means that I cannot often perform Recitations, like the one below, without either written notes or idiot boards.  Thankfully, no-one seems to mind.
I like to do this one in a North Yorkshire accent, as a form of tribute to that most wonderful and talented of Recitation artists, Stanley Holloway; but I often do it Mancunian voice.
Non-British readers will know Stanley Holloway only as the father of Eliza Doolittle, in My Fair Lady ("I'm getting married in the morning" in a London accent -- go figure); which vehicle gave him piteously little scope to demonstrate his incredible talent and irresistible wit.

I have had numerous requests -- mainly from Americans who won't know the accent, anyway -- to do a phonetic version of the piece; Click Here to view it

 Glossary:  Guildhall = City Hall   Loo = Toilet   Shite = Figure it out! 


The Perfect Wedding

I got lost on the way to the churchyard
I didn't know where I might be
The crowds in the town
were all milling around
and nobody cared about me

I finally found a policeman
and pleaded for help in despair
He said "D'you know the Guildhall?'
I said "No, not at all."
He said "Good, 'cause it's nowhere near there"

He sent me off down past the railway
Not a nice place for a stroll
...Then the world went all black
I was flat on my back
The wrong side of a bloody man-hole

It was dark
It was wet
It was smelly
I was lying in some kind of stew
I was soaked to the skin
liquid lumpy but thin
And then someone up top flushed the loo

My left shoe didn't want to come with me
Something squidgey and slick in my right
I could not see too well
In this dim and dank hell
But my taste buds were working all right....

...When my stomach was finally empty
I looked for a way to get out
There was no ladder there
leading up to the air
And nobody could hear me shout

So I yelled and I screamed and I hollered
But nobody answered my calls
I was floundering around
When I heard a faint sound
Echoing off of the walls

I couldn't tell what the sound had been made by
Or from where it was issuing forth
I struck out to the East
Or I think so, at least
But it could have been South, West or North

Or South-West or North-east, how should I know?
Or in circles, around and around
Though I didn't get nearer
The noise still got clearer
As though someone had turned up the sound

And then, at the end of the tunnel
I spotted a glimmer of light
I hoped it was the street
I had people to meet
...Even if I was covered with shite

So I ran and I splashed and I gambolled
Rushing along on that heading
I knew I couldn't falter
...Had to get to the alter
I couldn't be late for my wedding!

When I reached it, I stopped in amazement
Wondering if it were real
I looked all about
It was not a way out
And the walls were all made out of steel!

A big door on the left would not open
And I had no way to unlock it
As to where I might be
My suspicions told me
I was inside a bleeding great rocket!

Two men in strange suits came behind me
Started filling up sacks with the crap
They were piling them high
I didn't care why
If it meant a way out of that trap!

I asked what the hell they were doing
They explained as I sat on a sack
Some Mid-Eastern chap
Had been giving them crap
So they'd decided to send him some back!

Then their boss, he came down with some papers
And forced me to sign an escape
Then they gave me a ride
To the church, and my bride
All bound up in official red tape

If I told anyone what had happened
They would put me in prison for life!
But there's worse -- heaven knows!
I looked down at my clothes
What the hell could I say to the wife?


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