Now doth the Muse of Drama stir this age
And thousands hear the lure of the stage.
Then see the truckling city clerk at night
Transformed into a royal and noble sight.
Bedecked in tinplate armour watch him tower,
A swelling monarch for his petty hour.
The spotty typist sheds her office weeds
And lo! We have a Carmen straight from Leeds!
Fear not! All amateurs are not the same,
Some Little Theatres higher standards claim,
And hold with fervor nigh obsessional
That amateur, profession’l, clown or Lear,
Someone must bear the message, grasp the spear.
With crepe hair all askew, a parley hold,
Or tell the guests that dinner’s getting cold.
It is for these poor servants of the muse,
Coarse Actors all, that I this volume choose.
A dedication make, both brief and short
To those with cardboard spears at Agincourt.
The Art of Coarse Acting: Michael Green