"I’m going to be a Mason," said Sir, one day just after tea.
"It will only mean one evening out, once a month," said he.
One evening quickly led to two, followed by three or four.
And pretty soon I asked his name when he walked in the door.

He bought a jar of peppermints and he put them in a tin.
"I have to hand these round" he said, "or they wont let me in."
So now when friends come calling, and ask, "Oh Where is he then?"
I say, " You won't see him tonight, cos he’s with the Peppermint Men."

He dines out fairly often, superb meals, mostly roast.
While I just watch the goggle-box and eat my beans on toast.
A clean white shirt is needed, his gloves as white as snow.
His suit well brushed, his case in hand - I wish he’d hurry up and go!

He’s started talking to himself, I heard him in the den.
I think he’s going crackers and I blame the peppermint men!
"I’m going in the CHAIR," he said, " a position of renown."
That’s nice I thought, with his poor knees he’s better sitting down!

"I’ll be a Master of my Lodge, you ought to be impressed."
"I am dear; take the rubbish out as soon as you are dressed."
"You’ll have to make a speech you know, when it’s your Ladies Night."
I look at him in horror as fear replaced delight.

I scribbled through a pad or two, as I tried hard to think.
I threw away six ball point pens when they ran out of ink.
But now the evening has arrived, no words can really tell.
That it’s the best night of my life - I hope it’s yours as well.