Did I imagine that romantic story? –
England 1919, and the war just over,
It was raining hard, and she could see
A soldier, looking lost, was getting wet.
Her umbrella offered decent room for two:
And that was how they met.
He didn’t rejoin the Dublin Fusiliers,
Didn’t go back to Ireland,
Little work there, lots more rain.
Better to stay and be a British husband.
Did our mother really tell us this,
Or does remembrance misconstrue?
She was never given to romancing,
But it could still be true.
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