An ode to St Tinkie's Nuns, this special day:
Jolly, sad, insecure; behind high AB convent walls,
These watch the Apotheosic lamp; these watch and pray:
And it is one with them when evening falls,
And St Tinks; it is she, with the cold return of day.
Tink's nuns heed not AB time; their nights and days they make
Into a long returning banana rosary,
Whereon their lives are threaded for chocolate's sake;
Meekness, vigilance and lack of chastity.
A vowed patrol, in AB company,
Life-long they keep before the living Ed.
In the dim bar, Tink's nuns' prayers and penances
Are fragrant williness before the time for bed.
Outside, the AB world is wild and passionate;
Chatterbank's weary laughter and Body & Soul sick despair
Entreat at their impermeable "protected" gate:
Tink's nun's heed no voices in their dream of prayer.
They, the nuns, saw the glory of the chocolate dust displayed;
They, the sisters saw the bitter of it, the milk and the sweet;
They knew the Cadbury Roses of the world should fade,
And be trod under by the scampering B00 feet.
Therefore Tinkie's nuns rather put away desire,
And crossed their hands and came to the banana sanctuary
Veiled their heads and put on coarse Agent Provocateur attire:
Because their comeliness was no sqad vanity.
And there the Nuns rest; they have lewdish insight
Of the illuminating dawn, fat-frog drinks to be:
Boxie's sweet "Star" dispels for them the night,
The proper darkness of Jogger Jayne's "humanity".
Pizzed, joyous, and secure; with faces young and mild:
Surely their choice of Tinkie vigil is the best?
Yea! before our Bananas fade, the AB world is wild;
But there, beside Ed's pbuhtablecloth, there is St Tinkie a'rest.