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Robert W Service - Café Comedy
Work rating: Low

She

I`m waiting for the man I hope to wed.
I`ve never seen him - that`s the funny part.
I promised I would wear a rose of red,
Pinned on my coat above my fluttered heart,
So that he`d know me - a precaution wise,
Because I wrote him I was twenty-three,
And Oh such heaps and heaps of silly lies. . .
So when we meet what will he think of me?

It`s funny, but it has its sorry side;
I put an advert. in the evening Press:
"A lonely maiden fain would be a bride."
Oh it was shameless of me, I confess.
But I am thirty-nine and in despair,
Wanting a home and children ere too late,
And I forget I`m no more young and fair -
I`ll hide my rose and run…No, no, I`ll wait.

An hour has passed and I am waiting still.
I ought to feel relieved, but I`m so sad.
I would have liked to see him, just to thrill,
And sigh and say: "There goes my lovely lad!
My one romance!" Ah, Life`s malign mishap!
"Garcon, a cafè creme." I`ll stay till nine. . .
The cafè`s empty, just an oldish chap
Who`s sitting at the table next to mine. . .

               He

I`m waiting for the girl I mean to wed.
She was to come at eight and now it`s nine.
She`d pin upon her coat a rose of red,
And I would wear a marguerite in mine.
No sign of her I see…It`s true my eyes
Need stronger glasses than the ones I wear,
But Oh I feel my heart would recognize
Her face without the rose - she is so fair.

Ah! what deceivers are we aging men!
What vanity keeps youthful hope aglow!
Poor girl! I sent a photo taken when
I was a student, twenty years ago.
(Hers is so Springlike, Oh so blossom sweet!)
How she will shudder when she sees me now!
I think I`d better hide that marguerite -
How can I age and ugliness avow?

She does not come. It`s after nine o`clock.
What fools we fogeys are! I`ll try to laugh;
(Garcon, you might bring me another bock)
Falling in love, just from a photograph.
Well, that`s the end. I`ll go home and forget,
Then realizing I am over ripe
I`ll throw away this silly cigarette
And philosophically light my pipe.

               * * * * *

The waiter brought the coffee and the beer,
And there they sat, so woe-begone a pair,
And seemed to think: "Why do we linger here?"
When suddenly they turned, to start and stare.
She spied a marguerite, he glimpsed a rose;
Their eyes were joined and in a flash they knew. . .
The sleepy waiter saw, when time to close,
The sweet romance of those deceiving two,
Whose lips were joined, their hearts, their future too.
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