From our UK Laureate : The Ballad of Emmeline Spankhurt

The Ballad of Emmeline Spankhurt

This tale I’ll tell from years gone by, the early twentieth century,

In England’s land when males ruled and women were in drudgery,

Their lives bowed down with servitude, their status second-class,

Ambition low, they struggled on to earn a little brass.

But not all women were so meek, and change was in the offing;

Led by Emmeline Pankhurst there’d be no more cap doffing.

“Votes for women” was her cry, “No more we’ll be downtrodden,

We want a world where women have a role that’s strong and modern.”

Her call inspired much ire from those who liked the status quo,

But not so one young woman who was filled with bravado.

‘I’m going to change my life,’ she thought, ‘I want a better deal,

The world will be a better place if men are brought to heel.’

‘In honour of my heroine I’ll take her very name

But change the letters slightly ’cos it cannot be the same;

With s at one instead of eight to show my life intention

And make it clear that for my sex there is a new dimension!’

And so was born Miss Spankhurt, Edwardian disciplinarian.

Her aim was power over men, domestic not parliamentarian;

“With whips not votes” she emphasized “we’ll get emancipation –

The weaker sex will be no more, instead its domination!”

Now her husband was a man of means who owned the local mill;

To honour and obey she’d pledged, in church she’d said “I will”,

But now her will was different, ’twas time to turn the table,

No more would she bow down to him, his rule she’d disenable.

Next day she told him of her plans, no more she’d be subservient,

“From here on in what I say goes, to me you’ll be obedient.”

Her tone was firm, her manner stern, she left him in no doubt

That sins would mean her sexual charms he’d have to do without!

“What’s more,” she said, “I’ll punish you as though you were a child;

Across my knee you’ll swiftly go for spankings hard and wild.

And have no thought from shame and pain your feelings will be spared –

Oh yes indeed, I’ll tan your hide, your bottom duly bared.”

These words he heard with disbelief and not a little shock;

Could this be true or was it all just female poppycock?

He thought it best to humour her and let her notions fade,

And still be there as helpmate and his lover, cook and maid.

Was e’er a man so foolish, his judgement flawed and dated?

Within a week he found himself confronted and berated;

No longer meek and mild she soon hauled him ’cross her knee

And spanked him hard repeatedly, in line with her decree.

But even so he didn’t learn and made mistakes again;

Her punishments she strengthened with the use of birch and cane,

And over time he came to see that she was now the boss –

His actions he amended to avoid her getting cross.

Miss Spankhurt had a friend so dear, whose husband was uncouth,

A scoundrel he, philanderer, who rarely told the truth;

In league the women pondered, a plan him to repay –

A trap they set, temptation, with the promise of horseplay!

Oh what a shock this dastard had, ’twas not what he imagined;

Instead of hanky-panky he was spanked and disciplined.

The horseplay he encountered was designed to give him gyp,

His backside lashed repeatedly with crop and dressage whip.

This tale now moves on two years, our heroine’s fame had spread;

The suffragettes all cheered the way she turned men’s bottoms red.

No longer did she work for free, her fee was guineas three,

Presented to her graciously while down on bended knee.

From all across the land they came, all men with habits naughty –

Both Lords and men of humble birth, some young but most past forty –

To Emmeline it mattered not, she spanked them with vitality;

They left so sore, a recompense for all their life’s rascality.

In keeping with her assumed name she made the spankings hurt;

Not just her hand but whips she used, sjambok, chabouk and quirt.

In all her work she took delight, a smile upon her face;

It pleased her having full control, exposing men’s disgrace.

’Tis said with cane she was severe, and also with the birch;

Her clients spoke of angry welts – or so says my research.

Dear friends, I ask you honestly, can you believe it’s true

That men should seek such discipline and punishment pursue?

Indeed they did, and still today we seek out those who please,

A woman strong and feisty with a whip in her valise.

How good it is we know of one whose name befits her trade –

Ms Dana Kane we love you, please don’t let our spank-marks fade!