15 DECEMBER 1973, Page 16

Big Apple

I touch your hand, Madame, In the pavane; I bow and bend To grace your allemande; I point my foot To match your minuet.

I hold you close Among the shouting brass; My arm impels Your quickstep and your waltz; Symbolically we couple In the Big Apple.

I whip my pelvic curve For you, my love; I frug and thrill To hep my bed-in girl, And tackle in your thighs The wacking of the way-out boys.

Rosamund Stanhope