THE ADELPHI REVISITED
The old girl hasn't changed much
An ageless courtesan
Still extending hospitality with spirited elan
Though now tantamount to the expense account
Of the weary business man.
The burnished brass in her bathrooms
Makes modern cleaners quail
And her crimson plush, having lost its blush
Is now a trifle pale
But if the traveller cares to listen, the lady can tell a tale...
Of slender girls in pink shantung
Bangles on bare arms
Holding tea time assignations, coolly conscious of their charms
Eating petit-fours with their paramours
Behind the potted palms.
Of the deeply serious drinking
On pre-Grand National night
With Patrick and Shaun, drunk at dawn,
Insisting they're "quoite awlroight"
Of jockeys and owners, and Lime Street loners
Tenderly nursing regretted hangovers
And blinking like moles at the light.
The vintage core of her personnel
Ancient Mariners all,
Will fix you with nostalgic eyes and wistfully recall
The great days of the lady, like Rome before The Fall.
When the Cotton Kings of Lancashire and her Princes of Industry
Gave regal balls in her marble halls
For some worthy charity
With their eye on the cultivation
Of a 'peer' in their family tree.
Now Lords of the hotel chain gangs
Cast avaricious eyes
On this British Rail original
This speculators prize...
Should other arms enfold her
Yet faithful she'll remain
If they guard her reputation
And let the lady keep her name.
--
Marion Jansen