.
Advice to a Young Man in Love
If her name is Sally, then
_Tattoo it on your arm
With Lovehearts terminally, and
_It won’t do any harm,
Because, when Sally breaks your heart,
_There’s Sallys up and down
Quite every street in every part
_Of every country town.
But if her name is Bethany
_Count sixty and reflect:
Another one there’ll never be,
_So be more circumspect.
And if her name is Marigold
_Pray heed my warning brother:
You simply cannot be so bold;
_You’ll never find another.
And if she’s Luz or if she’s Ruth
_It would be too unkind
To let the wounds which marked your youth
_Leave such a scar behind.
Oh, Sally, Sally, marry me.
_But firstly I request
You change your name to Bethany.
_It will be for the best.
Sally, my Love, be not so cold,
_Be not so merciless,
But change your name to Marigold
_And end my singleness.
Sally, I love you in all truth
_Come fine or stormy weather,
But you must change your name to Luz
_Or we can’t be together.
And, yes, I know, my name is Joe,
_But, honest truth to tell,
I’m sure that Marcantonio
_Will serve me just as well.
.
.
Morrison Handley-Schachler is a retired Chartered Public Finance Accountant and Lecturer in Accounting. He has a doctorate in Ancient History and has published articles on ancient Persian history, accounting history, financial crime, auditing and financial risk management. He lives in South Queensferry, on the outskirts of Edinburgh, Scotland.
I love it! Made me laugh and that’s a good way to start the day.
Glad you enjoyed it, Rohini. It was fun to write as well.
I only can imagine the advice for those with other names!
I leave it to others to supply the advice for those. I’m afraid I was unable to come up with rhyming counsels for those who are in love with Cynthia or Agnes.
Light-hearted, with satisfying rhymes. Thanks for raising a smile, Morrison.
Very happy that you enjoyed reading it, Martin.
Your lyrical levity of ‘wisdom’ put a smile on my face.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for reading it, Paulette. I’m delighted that you enjoyed it.
It’s curious how female first names change. Whatever happened to Mabel or Minerva or Abigail?
Thanks, Joseph. I hope you don’t mind my borrowing your name for the last stanza. Interesting how names come and go. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Mabel or a Minerva. And probably more Catrionas than Abigails.
A fun piece, Morrison. Back in the 90s I worked in Zimbabwe and many names redundant in the West were thriving there. I had a student called Abigail, our young school secretary was Agatha, and a graduate teacher was called Gladys.
Thanks, Paul. Those are some fine, old-fashioned names. Some names also seem to enjoy regional popularity. In my experience, Heather, Elspeth and Kirsty are rarely encountered outside Scotland – likewise Duncan and Douglas.
I can always tell when a TV show has been made in the U.K.. simply by looking at the production credits.
If those credits list male names like Nigel, Roger, Alastair, Gavin, Cecil, Graham, or Percival, it’s a Brit show. This is confirmed if I also see female names like Felicity, Prunella, Beryl, Winifred, or Belinda.
I guess those names would be a giveaway, Joe. There are some big names from British TV there.
This is a well-crafted ballad and full of lovely witticisms (plus a nice pun on “Sally”). Like any good comic verse you leave us with a surprise punchline at the end. On a deeper level, you offer a comment about superficiality: in this topsy-turvy world, it is the name that must change to fit the skin art.
Thank you for reading and enjoying the poem, Adam, and for spotting “Sallys up and down,” which I thought was a felicitous phrase. There is also the absurdity of having to change identity to match the skin art, as you say.
I love this poem very much; a real mood lifter! Thanks for sharing, Morrison.
Thanks, Shamik. Glad you enjoyed it.
Nicely done, indeed, but perhaps the best advice would be to forego any body ink at all.
Well, maybe, but some people cannot resist the risk.
Morrison, my son and my five daughters all have tattoos– but I grew up (as a boomer) believing they were low-class and vulgar. You couldn’t pay me to have a tattoo! And yet all my children are college-educated (going on three with advanced degrees)– two are software engineers, one is an attorney, one is a director of social work, one is a creative director/graphic designer, and one is a medical student– and yet, tattoos are acceptable to them all. In fact my badass software engineer and crypto-entrepreneur daughter has a full sleeve!! I honestly have never been able to figure it out. It seems what once was déclassé is now an “acceptable form of self-expression” across the social classes. I do think names or words have got to be the worst thing– if you want to have fun, go google “bad tattoos”– there is a guy out there who actually has “EXREME” (as opposed to “extreme”) tattooed on his chest. (It might be a stretch to expect a tattoo artist to be able to spell!) Anyway the whole culture of it is repugnant to me and yet my kids are the most industrious, hard-working, creative, and intelligent people I know. Personally, I would be in favor of universal “short-term” tattoos– make them so they last only a few years, in case Sally, or Bethany, or Marigold or Luz or Ruth don’t work out. Anyway thanks for your clever poem!!!
Thank you for your extensive comment, Theresa. It is interesting how attitudes change. At one time, tattoos were certainly considered a little vulgar and at one time in the UK they had naval associations. Of course they could catch you out if you were trying to hide who you were. In the rather comical case of Arthur Orton, alias Thomas Castro, alias Sir Roger Charles Tichbourne, one of the things that showed that he was not the real Sir Roger but an impostor was that he didn’t have a tattoo and the real Roger -an ex-cavalryman and not a sailor-did; but there was also some evidence that the real Sir Roger, alias William Cresswell, had had his tattoo removed to help with his disappearing act, although Cresswell rather clumsily denied being or knowing either Tichbourne or Castro and his true history was buried with him.
The case of “The Tichborne Claimant” is one of the strangest incidents of imposture that ever happened. Orton was an obvious fraud, but an illusion-driven and overly sentimental mother had a compulsion to believe that he was her lost son.
The tattoo business wasn’t the only giveaway. Orton was a heavy-set, coarse-featured, and bulky man, while the real Sir Roger was handsome and svelte. The best comment on the case was made by an old tenant farmer on the Tichborne estate. When Orton spoke to the man, and claimed to be Sir Roger, the farmer said “If thou art, thou hast changed from a race horse to a cart horse.” The old farmer’s use of the familiar “thou” pronoun was an indication that he gave no credit at all to Orton’s pretensions, unlike the delusional members of Sir Roger’s family.
About women and tattoos, in the past the only females who voluntarily got them were cheap hookers, or the sluts who belonged to motorcycle gangs. One of the most godawful tattoo fads among girls today is to get a “tramp stamp” — that is, a flamboyant horizontal design right above your buttocks.
And on top of all that the real Roger had grown up in France speaking both French and English. Orton/Castro turned out not to speak a word of French. The tramp stamp? I wonder how long the fashion will last, if it hasn’t already faded.