wordsout
< st john's ealing >
Lines
written in praise of
Ellen Breton
on the occasion of her ninetieth birthday, November 2001, after the
manner
of Sir William Topaz McGonagall, Poet and Tragedian
I
write
words in honour of Ellen Breton
whose age I had always thought she would never
let on.
She was born in the year of nineteen
hundred
and eleven,
which was also the last year of the reign
of
King Edward (number VII),
and born in Glasgow,
which makes her a Scot
(which upon reflection actually explains
quite
a lot)
but while still a wee lassie she was moved to
Liverpool on the River Mersey’s shore
(which probably explains quite a lot more).
But
in London her career was first made
where she worked at the Commission of Trade
for in the War she entered the world of high
fashions
(well at least she was employed to give
out
clothing rations)
and it's said that of the plunging neckline
and
the mini skirt Ellen was a
pioneer
(well it was her job to make sure that not
too
much material was
used in making any clothes,
so I hear)
and as a Servant it can be said that she
was
always most Civil
(though between you and me I cant imagine
her
putting up with
anyone’s drivel)
and when the War was done Ellen did go
forth
to
in the unlikely context of the Church of
Scotland
in
desperate rhyme I hope was
called Archie)
and there did Ellen and Rowland meet
and made music together most sweet
for they did both sing in the Church
choir
with passion and fury
and romance flourished to Gilbert &
Sullivan’s
Trial by Jury.
And
Ellen
and Rolly did marry and have
daughters two
and send them to for an education
is true
and they came back to
of hurry
and lived eventually in
and so when Rolly was ill it was Ellen
who
became his nurse
and when Ellen was left alone she moved again
to Ealing to be near her daughter Jane
and this is how she came to
And
she
has lived here in a most quiet and
inconspicuous way
leading the Monday Fellowship and playing
piano
and running the
Bookstall and Stewarding on
every other Sunday,
and she will always be invited when
anyone
gets wed
and is sure to have a new outfit each time,
it
is said.
Ellen’s legendary dress-sense is so stylish
and neat
that not even John Bavington’s shirts
may compete
and when one considers the readiness of
Ellen’s smile
it must be said, the Queen Mother has
had
strong competition for a
while,
not to mention, behind that innocent facade
the sharpest forensic skills outside
of
Scotland Yard.
It was surely well written by one our sages
that great things often come in small packages,
so I write in honour of Ellen Breton
whose age I had always thought she
would
never let on
but today can be revealed plainly for all to
see
that she is ninety, going on twenty-three.
Read
in the church lounge after
the morning service at