by Joe Dobrow ©1988
This poem was penned on the occasion of the wedding of my childhood best friend, Josh Spero, to Ellen Rowse. It features a highly unusual internal rhyme scheme on the second and fourth lines of each stanza, along with a truncated rhyme to end the third line of each stanza.
O Spare me the pith of blithe wedding vows
Of dry booze and “I dos” and “thys,” “thees” and “thous.”
Of frilly lace dresses and tuxedo trous-
ers and dancing and romancing (if time allows).
Now finding a mate is hard, what the heck!
The cotillions, the millions of places to check.
But these two were not even in the right sec-
tion for she sacked in Acton and he in Great Neck.
Born to the Speros was Joshua B.
Debuted a real cutey in Wash’ton D.C.
Who could have dreamed then that he was to be-
come a scholar, a harrier, a marrier? Not me.
Not long after that, in a far away land
Ellen looked swell in her small baby stand.
But she grew and matured and then wound up at Brand-
eis, a move that would prove to turn out rather grand.
They worked very hard to get their degrees
Of Russian he learned much ‘n earned As and Bs.
But of love he learned more and so it stood to reas-
on that Rowse he’d espouse, her ring finger he’d seize.
Were they too eager? The answer was nyet!
A year to endear them seemed like a safe bet.
So off to the Midwest he went and he set-
tled while she found it rougher, a true suffragette.
They made a decision: to cohabitate
Which was par for Ann Arbor, but still second rate.
Their love for each other had yet to be sat-
ed – with care and with parents they picked out a date.
Fair reader, that date is upon us, do tell:
From Rockville the clock will toll out its sweet bell
Proclaiming the marriage of Josh and of El-
len, a pair that I’ll swear will do awfully well.
Don’t let me drone on, let’s verb’ly carouse
With these cool-headed newlyweds, real cat’s meows.
Let’s lift up our glasses and toast them a thous-
and times: our hero, Spero, and his new spouse, Rowse.