Her childhood was spent by the seaside in Kent
where she found the life boring and slow
until at eighteen a sweet-talking Marine
took her out to the End-of-the-Pier Show.
He squeezed her hot hand and, though she had planned
an early night home in her bed,
he bought her a gin and inveigled her in
to the Slot Machine Arcade instead
where they put lots and lots of pennies in slots
as they played until midnight was near.
Then she showed the Marine what the butler had seen,
and he did rather more than just peer.
Now, on moonlight and gin many girls will give in,
and for lack of a moment’s sobriety
the kisses he stole led her on to a whole
new programme of Summer Variety.
But kisses soon end and love may well tend
to be just an illusion, I fear,
for girls who believe that Marines home on leave
tell the truth on the end of a pier.