The poem
It was my bridal night I remember, An old man of seventy-three I lay with my young bride in my arms, A girl with t.b. It was wartime, and overhead The Germans were making a particularly heavy raid on Hampstead. What rendered the confusion worse, perversely Our bombers had chosen that moment to set out for Germany. Harry, do they ever collide? I do not think it has ever happened, Oh my bride, my bride.
love ze peom