Miss Corfield, Miss Corfield, we’re destined as one

You a wood nymph, I a woodworkers son.

We both vibrate airwaves of Radio 4

You live and vivacious! I dead as a door.

With nasal enhancement and vamp-throated quirk

You take mundane news and you set it to work

Stirring old men, from straw hat to galoshes

Till backward and forth, my sawdust-blood slo...

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A sock lies still, alone and crumpled

Her husband left for partners-new

Tumbling midst myriad socky others

Occasionally coming into view.

Front-loader’s rumble whirr and hum

More versatile than Drake’s old drum.

Detergency now far outweighs

Matelot filth of far off days.

As Mr Sock has...

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