High-life-low-life

 

Annabel and Dave are sorted

toast the life they always courted

with Johnny Walker Black (imported)

by a geezer in Gibraltar.

Dave’s new boat’s a thirty footer

cowhide seats as soft as butter

room to practice with his putter

cruising down to Malta.

Made his pile in double glazing

take and margins just amazing

dreams of days of golf and lazing

on the Costa’s beaches.

She wears Jimmy Choos and Prada

case of Cristal in the larder

private health spa near Granada

(Jaccuzi, Reiki, peaches.)

Knows that she is just arm-candy

that he’s a player and a dandy

still the greenbacks come in handy

couldn’t bear to lose it.

Finds consolation in Marbella

with a former West Ham player

more her age a lot less greyer

at least that’s how she views it.

Knows his eye for pastures greener

hears rumours in the new marina

Swedish model name’s Christina

riding on his Harley.

Both have secrets they’re not sharing -

Exciting? Foolish? Stupid? Daring?

Knowing but not really caring

as they divvy up the Charlie.

Will it last and does it matter?

She’ll get older he’ll get fatter

life served on a golden platter

days of milk and honey.

All around the Med you’ll see them.

Are they just like you and me them?

Wouldn’t you just like to be them?

 - or is it just the money?

 

Author's note: Strangely - and completely unintentionally, this poem has acquired the rhythm of the nursery rhyme "Bobby Shafto." I guess it fits with the nautical theme!