Suburban Church’s

The Cockney Amorist



Oh when my love, my darling
You've left me here alone
I'll walk the streets of London
Which once seemed all our own

The vast suburban churches
Together we have found:
The ones which smelt of gaslight
The ones in incense drown'd;
I'll use them now for praying in
And not for looking round

No more the Hackney Empire
Shall find us in its stalls
When on the limelit crooner
The thankful curtain falls
And soft electric lamplight
Reveals the gilded walls

I will not go to Finsbury Park
The putting course to see
Nor cross the crowded High Road
To Williamsons' to tea
For these and all the other things
Were part of you and me




John Betjeman