Imagine at their dinner if you will
Jack and Mrs Spratt, whose name was Martha,
may she rest in peace and all the saints preserve us.
Née Robinson. Sole relict Jeremiah Bethia Robinson,
a man that was never any fun at breakfast,
a life from start to finish without meat and 2 veg.
You will recall his long face spouting God’s holy word
at every spoonful of his pudding, an upright
exclamation of a man much given to kneeling down.
As was Martha. When Jack took her he would take her
from behind and call it prayer, wondering the while
what’s for supper, wondering if the stars were edible.
He loved her for her bones. He did this or that
and one died then the other and they’re long gone now
to where there’s nothing in the cupboard but the dark.
Theirs was a tale told to cheer the poor
and promote thrift among the lower classes.
Written on their stone They licked the platter clean.