Tom, Dick, & Hooray !
Why are we still telling tales of Tom Jones ?
A Georgian lad with a leg to get over –
So honest and randy and easily led
Beneath ev’ry petticoat, straight into bed.
Wide-eyed and panting, they call him in moans,
As he’s shagging through shires like a journeyman rover –
But deep down he’s pining for saintly Sophia,
And wouldn’t you know it, he’s really a squire !
Why are we still making love to Tom Jones ?
A privileged lad who will caution for nothing.
Where women are scheming, with wanton presumption,
Except for his virgin, who’s lacking in gumption.
But is he a victim to his very bones,
Whom the wealthy corrupt when in need of a stuffing ?
Yet he’s too busy romping to care for abuse,
As the good-for-the gander has plucked him a goose.
I should point out that I always understood that in the 1700s (or indeed the 11700s), ‘Sophia’ did indeed rhyme with ‘squire’ (as long as your accent wasn’t rhotic, which was lucky, as the better sort were shunning such yokel diction, and thought all such Somersetters were talking arse, so to speak).
As for the novel, it is a fascinating record of the times – the tale of a boy from nowhere who is exiled from the green green grass of home, only to fall prey to many a delilah and sex bomb. Of course, as such tales go, it’s not unusual, and certainly not what’s new, pussycat.
Rhyming Couplets 