The Parish Church of St George the Martyr, Waterlooville


’Twas once upon a Pantomime

(Here re-instated as a rhyme)

Young Alice, bored, with time in hand,

A game of hide and seek was planned.

White Rabbit, who preferred to read

Eventually, forced to conceed

Agreed to play, so off he ran

And so our Pantomime began.

First Cinders busy with her broom,

Her sisters swept into the room.

Their names, Hortense and Ermintrude,

And whilst not meaning to be rude

Though dressed most fine, with coiffured hair

Could neither be described as “fair”.

Whilst each desired to snare a fella,

Could not compare with Cinderella.

White Rabbit poking in his nose

A Fairy God-ma did propose.

With gloves, tiara, blue ball gown

Soon Cinders left to “hit the town”.

In coach not large enough for all,

Was then transported to the Ball.

A “Shoeholder”, mature of years,

An extra child with fluffy ears,

Discovered by familial rhyme,

As dutifully stood in line.

Our lonely Rabbit sent away -

Poor thing, he only came to play.

And Alice too just caused more stress,

So both departed, dinnerless.

A kind old woman came in sight

And greeted Emerald and Snow White,

She offered apples, golden, green,

But wasn’t all that she might seem.

So, innocently unaware

She of old ladies should beware,

Snow White decided she would take

A bite, this was a BIG mistake!

The apple caused Snow White to swoon.

But help was close at hand for soon

The Seven Dwarves their entrance made

And one administered First Aid.

Snow White was offered sanctuary,

But this it seemed was not quite “free”.

Not fond of housework, weeding too,

But with the tools, to job to do.

It seemed the price for which they’d save her

Was gardening and domestic labour!

The White Prince asked for Snow White’s hand,

Not quite the fate the Queen had planned.

But then gave in quite graciously,

She wasn’t all that bad, you see.

Then having got the Queen “on  side”,

He claimed Snow White to be his  bride.

(The Interval was next and tea,

No Bickies, though, for hungry me!)

Easter Edition 2012

Alice in Pantoland

Poor Robin Hood was feeling sad.

The Sheriff in his castle had

Made Marion his captive there

To reclaim her, would Robin dare?

He summoned all his Merry Men,

(Well, there were only three of them!)

And they devised a strategy

So they could set the maiden free.

A plan to “spike” the Sheriff’s drink

Should be straightforward you would think.

Brave they might be, and soon quite “merry”,

But clever? Well, perhaps not very.

Their “sober” plan soon turned to farce

As one by one they took the glass

Intended that the Sheriff keep

And slumped into a crumpled heap.

It seemed a woman’s touch was needed

And in the end the plan succeeded.

Marion and Robin did not wait -

Just left the others to their fate!

Jack’s stubby bean was looking pale,

And as a beanstalk bound to fail.

The Ogre too, not quite the kind

Of “Giant” Jack had had in mind.

White Rabbit passing, viewed the scene

Declared his spell would save the bean,

He wagged his tail, but even though

At last the bean began to grow

’Twas not enough. Jack said the thing

They needed was for all to sing.

The audience “Reached for the Skies!”

And then, to everyone’s surprise

The weedy bean grew tall and strong.

Which only proves the power of song!

His cast complete, well almost now,

For he was minus still a cow.

The King and Queen sat down to tea,

With cake from Ruby’s recipe.

The Knave of Hearts, Mad Hatter too,

Debating what was best to do

To raise more money, via tax

For revenue St George’s lacks.

The Queen, at slightest aggravation

Demanding mass decapitation.

Poor Rabbit didn’t want to die

And end up in some “Royal” pie!

He scampered off, in mortal fear

As soon as “Mrs Queen” loomed near.

But Alice later called her bluff,

For she was made of sterner stuff!

And at the end, slightly bereft,

Mad Hatter, by himself, was left

To tell the Dormouse there would be

Just one partaker of her tea.

White Rabbit, Alice there he found

Still sitting, dozing, on the ground.

Had it then only been a dream,

All those strange people she had seen?

The point, said Alice, had been proved

She’d won the game and had not moved!

Then everybody took a bow

And all that’s left is for me now

To finish off my little rhyme

And end “St George’s Pantomime”.

Janet Johnson