In Memoriam: Beatrice Arthur
By, Caspian Shadowmort
Why have you left me? Bea!
You’ve followed Getty to the Gates
Left two churlish Golden Girls to wait
For death’s brass embrace, like Paul and Ringo
Slinging swill without your watchful,
Bereft of bliss,
Holding them in check.
If Betty White isn’t next,
I’ll further Rue the day you left.
Why can’t the Philistines see? Bea!
The kids only know you from the scene
From Airheads whence Lone Rangers razed
The radio, making outrageous demands
To seek the insanity defence.
They howled for naked photographs
Of thee, Bea!
And when Judd Nelson peered o’er
Stupid Sandler’s shoulder
What did he see?
Judd slithered out a sibilant “Nice!”
And the kids all giggled,
Not knowing why.
(Not you, Aunt Bee!
Return thee to Mayberry!)
You are free! Bea!
Whilst public lips lament the loss
Of Dorothy, and the ma’am
Who roasted Pamela Anderson,
Their panoramic view
Proves of little use.
They barely knew that Maude was God
And never knew the broad
Who swung out Broadway sleaze,
Or the cantina wench from Mos Eisley
Who danced and sang in the holiday breeze.
They never even knew
You were Bernice.
But from the earth and skies,
You shalt arise
To rewrite your Arthurian legacy
And they shall see, Bea,