She was 16, he was 20 going on 17.

Fell in love that night in the garden shed.

A quick-fix wedding ensued.

Six guests in all.

“It is a bit rushed’ said Milkman Joe.

A great bash was had by all. Then silence.

Andy and Tracey slinked outta town to set up a life of their own.

The low-rent pad in the east end was their prized conquest.

Furnished it with ‘steals’ from the boot sale

and furnishings from Oxfam as garnish.

More good news … Andy found work at the local garage

and the weekends never seemed to end.

The beer kept flowing whilst they stuffed their faces with kebabs and pizza.

The lazy gramophone played their hit 78s,

as they rocked n rolled spliffs till dawn,

The only interludes were  hasty tumbles in their rickety marital bed.

“Not sure what they’re up to next door’ said the neighbours.

Come pay day a clapped-out ’56 Morris Minor

stood glittering in the sun below the pad.

Tracey couldn’t believe her eyes as Andy banged on about his

yellow beauty with gold bumpers.

Drove it all the way down to Brighton.

‘Think she’s pregnant’ said the grocer.

Now Andy works nights to save for a yellow buggy.