‘She was always a bit of an actress,
I remember how she was,
Back in the days of the village plays
When she changed her name to Roz,
She wouldn’t respond to Eileen since
The day that she made the switch,
In print, the head of the programme said:
‘Roz plays the Wicked Witch!’’
‘She always got into the parts she played
And would practice night and day,
Try to get into the head, she said
Of the character she’d play,
She’d wander round in a velvet gown
Or strip right down for the beach,
There wasn’t a beach for twenty miles
But she’d towel herself in the street.’
‘It must have become a way of life,
A habit, hard to break,
And went on after I’d married her
Though it brought its own heartache,
She had affairs with her leading men
But she saw no fault in this,
She said, ‘It has to be genuine,
To portray authentic bliss!’’
‘The years went on and the parts she played
They became more grim and dour,
She’d often play the neglected wife
And her mood at home was sour,
She’d even try to attack me with
The words from her latest play,
And I would have to remind her that:
‘My name’s not Robin Day!’’
‘She rarely thought to apologise,
She said that she saw no need,
For after all, she was following
The muse of the artist’s creed,
I tried to ignore the worst of it
When she flung both pots and pans,
But had to go off to the hospital
When she stomped on one of my hands.’
‘She asked me to drive her out one night
To the cliffs at Beachy Head,
And play the part of a kidnapper
Who was holding a maid in dread,
She played her part, hung over the cliff,
And begged, and screamed, and stomped,
While I just said the word in the script
And the word in the script was ‘Jump!’’
‘I didn’t think she would jump, My Lord,
To me it was just a play,
To her it was the way that she lived,
Authentic in every way.
She screamed the most blood-curdling scream
That ever I heard, I know,
A scream that would bring the curtain down
On any top London show!’
David Lewis Paget
