Atkin-James
Frangipanni was her flower
And amethyst her birthday stone
The fairest blossom of the bower
She wasn't born to be alone
And now she was terribly alone
A Ford Cortina was the car
Eleven thirty-five the hour
The squeak of gravel in the drive
Left the damsel in the tower
Pondering her vanished power
Always, everything had gone so well
Her dolls had been the best
She was better than the rest
Always, everything had gone so well
The world at her behest
Had fed her from the breast
Always, everything had gone so well
She was married all in white
To a lad serenely trite
Always, everything had gone so well
And on her wedding night
Things had more or less gone right
By fairest fortune she was kissed
Frangipanni was her bloom
A silver spoon was in her fist
Upon emerging from the womb
Tonight she wrecked the room