Jennifer Jane
Jennifer Jane was very plain,
her arms and legs as thin as cane;
no crowning glory was her mane,
it hung like washing in the rain.
Jennifer Jane did not complain
nor yet endeavour to obtain
the kind of looks which so constrain
some women, like her friend, Elaine.
Jennifer Jane was never vain
except about her wondrous brain;
as top professors went insane
just trying to unknot the skein
of thoughts which, like a counterpane,
blanketed her more mundane
achievements, such as to attain
perfection in legerdemain.
Jennifer Jane, Jennifer Jane,
oh did some power fore-ordain
that things which others can't explain
should be to you as cellophane?
Jennifer Jane would never deign
to labour for financial gain;
she felt it proper to abstain
from money and all things germaine
and so she sat in her domain,
an impecunious chatelaine,
and did her best to entertain
with cheap, inferior champagne.
Jennifer Jane would not sustain
a friendship which might cause her pain.
She treated men with high disdain
until their hearts were rent in twain.
Like Eleanor of Aquitaine
she married once and once again
yet always managed to remain
a cut above demi-mondaine.
Jennifer Jane, Jennifer Jane
how could she be so inhumane?
How could she possibly sustain
a heart of polyurethane?
One day a young and handsome swain
(who's brain was addled by cocaine)
made it his quest to ascertain
how he could win Jennifer Jane.
He followed her by boat and plane
from Bloemfontein to Bangor, Maine.
He followed her by car and train
to Spain, Bahrain and Dunsinane.
This plucky chap, who's name was Wayne,
was not put off by wind or rain
or even by a hurricane
but carried on with his campaign.
He courted her beside the Seine
and wrote her many a fine cinquain;
he gave his all, with might and main,
a twentieth century Tamerlane.
Reluctantly then Jennifer Jane
began to lose her heart to Wayne
and very soon this gallant Thane
made her Jennifer Jane McLean.
© 1995
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