Joiana's getting married
She's carried down the aisle
The Preacher rough and stern
Smiles coyly at the wine.
The guests have lined the wall
The air heavy, scented with mothball
Hat in hand they stand
Trying to recall
With their suited smiles
and their crooked grins
The beauty of Joiana
Misted in sloe gin.
As the Preacher sings
They turn... face the groom
Resting on his cross
Near the upright broom
Forgotten there by Ross
When he last swept the room.
Resplendent all in white
Joiana lays in lace
her heart still, no flap no flutter
Her soul has left no trace..
She's waiting for her cue
To guide her through the light
Into the arms of angels
Where she'll float like a kite.