Pat Batt poem – 45 Degrees


I was a pretty baby,
A perfect work of art,
But my toes would go together
And my heels would go apart.I went to ballet classes,
An eager little kid,
But my dancing didn’t look the same
As Margot Fonteyn’s did.

At school, our class won prizes
For English Country Dance,
But when they had me in the team
They didn’t stand a chance!

I wish we’d then had discos,
To wriggle to the beat
In almost total darkness
Would do wonders for my feet.

When I was nearly twenty one,
I met a Highland man,
I saw him dance a Highland fling,
And that’s how love began.

I went to Scottish Dancing
As quickly as I could,
And pretty soon my feet began
Behaving as they should.

And on the day each foot attained
Forty five degrees.
My Highland man proposed to me
Upon his bended knees!

We danced together down the years,
And now I’m eighty nine,
My hearing’s rather dodgey,
But my rheumatism’s fine.

My eyes are getting rather dim,
My teeth are NHS,
And what is going on inside
Is anybody’s guess,

But there’s one thing that I’m proud of,
And you will notice, please,
Each foot is placed precisely
At forty five degrees!