The Wedding

Our Edie’s getting married next week,
It’s going to be a grand affair,
Her fiance is something in the City
So all the nobs will be there.
She says her wedding dress is a dream,
She wants it to shimmer and billow,
But with her weighing in at 16 stone,
It looks like she’s wearing a pillow.

She shouldn’t really be wearing high heels,
Not with her weak ankles an’ all,
She won’t be heading for the altar
But heading for a nasty fall.
She’s having a special hair-do,
She tried it out last week,
It stuck out in all directions,
She really looked a freak.

The wedding cake looks scrumptious,
The guests are in for a treat,
But the caterers have gone on strike,
So there’s nothing else to eat.

She’s asked me to be a bridesmaid,
In a revolting shade of red,
It clashes like hell with my carroty hair,
I’m going to wish I was dead.
My young brother, Wayne, says he won’t be a page,
In a suit that doesn’t fit,
He’d be the laughing stock of all his mates.
He’d really look a twit.

Edie’s mum’s in a terrible state
Trying to decide on a hat,
She’s tried on at least two dozen,
“I’ll have this - no I’ll have that,”
The milliner’s going bananas,
She’s being driven up the wall,
“With your very odd shaped head, madam,
You’d be better with no hat at all.”

The vicar’s got problems with the heating,
The organist’s gone away,
It’s going to be a disaster,
Poor Edie’s wedding day.
But Edie’s optimistic,
She isn’t worried at all,
She has a deep, abiding faith,
I think she’s right, an’ all.

The wedding