| A lovely creature strides the stage, |
| A woman of uncertain age. |
| Her smile is Heaven, her temper Hell; |
| She's full of talent, gin as well. |
| Fortune's showered gifts upon her. |
| The temperamental Prima Donna. |
| She is not plagued by doubts and fears, |
| For she knows better than her peers. |
| And when dear Larry played Archie Rice |
| He came to her to get advice. |
| All this is true, I know because |
| She told me several times it was. |
| With narrowed eyes and tightened lips |
| She gives her fellow actors "tips". |
| Coaching them in strange inflections; |
| "Never mind the stage directions!" |
| Ignoring the director's plan |
| I know because -- I was that man. |
| She knows her lines -- well, more or less; |
| But holds the book until the "dress"; |
| Then scatters notes about the set; |
| "It's just an old pro's trick, pet." |
| Then as she goes from bad to worse |
| She gives the prompt a gypsy's curse. |
| The play's denouement's come and gone, |
| The curtain calls go on and on. |
| And though she played it like a ham, |
| (Well, more like mutton dressed as lamb.) |
| She knows as she slips on her furs |
| The credit really is all hers. |
| So caution! If you must direct, |
| Choose wisely and be circumspect. |
| Select your cast with loving care, |
| Avoid her piercing dragon's glare. |
| And to remain a man of honour |
| Leave out the lovely Prima Donna. |
| © Leonard Morley 2009 |