Not W.I. nor Women's Liberation;
This buttress of the Guardian's circulation,
These shareholders of Marks and Mothercare,
We thank them for this chance to show our flair.
This new experience sent to test us -
Addressing National Housewives Registers.
We sally forth with rapier wits to sting 'em
In Derby, East Leake, Yoxall, Grantham, Bingham.
We puncture with our sharpened repartees
Their follies, except when issues eccles-
-iastical are raised, against us like a rod.
(“God’s good,” some say, but we're no good on God.)
Genesis, Deuteronomy, then St. Paul
Are quoted as we quietly climb the wall.
So hone your minds in case your brains grow flabby,
For next it's Mansfield, Burton, Darley Abbey.
The moral lunacies of Leviticus
Are used to flail us. What a pity! Cos'
It's not just gays and lezzies he can't take,
It's those who dine on lobsters, pork or steak.
We made our points and backed them with statistics,
While scoffing home-made cake and oatmeal biscuits.
And multitudes of invitations kept on
Arriving from Uttoxeter and Repton.
With solidarity and with strategies well-planned,
We'll overwhelm this Chablis-and-Cortina land.
So here we come! To challenge and disturb ya'
Amid your weeping-willow fringed suburbia.
Where next will our campaigning forays be,
We ask ourselves? But suddenly we see
A messenger, who reads from a cartouche
And summons us to Ashby de la Zouch.