Cyril Fletcher, 1913 - 2005

So, farewell then, Cyril Fletcher.
When you were one of Esther's eunuchs
And smiled into camera one and said
I'm indebted to Hilda Higginbottom
For this from the Ledbury Echo
You always made my flesh creep

But I'm sure you were
A jolly old geezer
A Cyril to your fingertips
A man who said a pint of best squire
And one for your good lady wife
But probably said it in verse

You came from Watford
Like Elton John who used to be Reg
But you could only be a Cyril
With your hornrimmed specs and dimpled smile
Your odd odes and knowing snigger
That's life, but now no more.