“The people” have chosen to exit
The Europe to which we belong
My husband is fuming
His identity’s human
We’re not English cos our name is too long
My big head is a gift from the Vikings
The bones in my feet are all Celts
My blue eyes are Irish
My lips are quite smilish
So being European was a help.
The man who delivers the parcels
Puts Mary down as my surname
For even the Londoners
Hear it with wonderment
It’s Danish, I say, try again
Thwaite is a puzzle to many
Like Hebrew names might be to me
For vowels are guessed at
Just how brilliant is that?
You just have to believe it to see
I
How my heart sings 