Ellen was an old-fashioned usherette.
Selling ice creams, popcorn and sweets.
Brilliant with a torch and walking backwards.
Impressive at showing people to their seats.

At shushing noisy sods she was unmatched.
A laser-like torch beam would hit the felon.
A finger to her lips got the message across.
Nobody spoke after being shushed by Ellen.

An intermission and a queue would form.
No one dare jump that queue of course.
Lyons Maid ice cream and Sun Pat nuts.
At promotions Ellen was a tour-de-force.

With an aura akin to a thunder cloud,
“Are you having one or two?” she’d shout.
“Hurry up and make your mind up lad,
If you were mine you’d be getting a clout”

The lights went down, and Ellen was off,
To man the doors at the end of the show.
“Keep moving, you can chat all you like outside”
With not one ounce of goodwill to bestow.

Her disposition softened when the doors were shut.
And Dave the projectionist came down the stairs.
For he was the Granny Smith of Ellen’s eye.
And with the patrons all gone the cinema was all theirs.

Dave would put on From Here to Eternity.
Ellen would share her salted popcorn.
And in the back row they were united.
Which is why the middle seats are well worn.

Dave would walk Ellen home in the moonlight.
Kissing on the doorstep of her terraced house.
She dreamt of little usherettes and projectionists.
And was keen to get Dave to be her spouse.

They finally married in the middle of 1959.
Coinciding with the release of Some Like it Hot.
From then onwards Dave was under her thumb.
And he soon realised he’d not won the jackpot.

Her uniform now frightens Dave to death.
Her tray sends a shiver down his spine.
They’ve spawned an usherette and projectionist.
But for the good old days Dave does pine.

He wishes he was behind his projection lamp.
Leaving Ellen walking backwards in the stalls.
Each night fixing to slip out of the back door.
And flatly refusing to take Ellen’s calls.