STAGE STRUCK

[with apologies to Mr. Thomas Hood]
I remember, I remember
The little Village Hall,
Where first I toddled on a stage:
The stage and I were small.
The next Play couldn't come too soon:
Was there a part for me?
At that young age, I knew the stage
Was where I wished to be.

I remember, I remember
The learning days at School.
I often played the cross old maid,
And, frequently, the fool.
And some time in my growing up,
I knew, most bitterly,
The starry brightness of the stage
Was too star-bright for me.

I remember, I remember
The first time that I "dried".
Though Prompt was there, in my despair
I wished that I had died.
And then there came, to sort me out
That first Adjudication:
I shed a chastened, bitter tear,
And thought of emigration.

I remember, I remember
Directors I drove mad.
(To all of these, apologies -
But was I quite that bad?]
Then, costumes Wardrobe made for me
That sometimes didn't fit.
The dress that kept me standing up:
They'd left no room to sit.

I remember, I remember
The trauma of First Night,
The "How did I get into this?"
The "Please let it go right!"
The casts, the camaraderie,
The tears, the cheers, the glooms,
The low-voiced chat of this and that
In cluttered dressing rooms.

I remember, I remember
The roles, some lead, most small:
Some I did well, and some were hell,
And how I've loved them - all.
The treasures of a stage-struck heart,
All these I hold most dear,
So, friends, if you've a part for me
Remember that I'm here ...
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