Invisible Ladies
Invisible ladies! You see them ev’rywhere,
In sensible raincoats and Margaret Thatcher hair.
Standing at bus-stops, watching the bus go by:
Waiting at crossings,
Letting the traffic splatter mud in their eyes …
Invisible ladies, all in their “middle years”.
Invisible ladies:
No hopes, but so many fears …
SO polite! So ladylike!
Just don’t mind us, don’t make a fuss … Wouldn’t be right …
But deep inside, there’s such a rage …
You’ll catch it too, this vanishing plague
Called MIDDLE AGE!
Invisible ladies … shopping bags all akimbo:
Moving like zombies, each in her private limbo.
Pushing a trolley at ASDA or Sainsbury:
Examining prices,
Searching for bargains – ever more desp’rately …
Invisible ladies, choosing the longest queue …
The one with the baby:
Babies, they’re visible to …
SO polite! So ladylike!
Just don’t mind us, don’t make a fuss … Wouldn’t be right …
But deep inside, there’s such a rage …
You’ll catch it too, this vanishing plague
Called MIDDLE AGE!
Invisible ladies! When somebody barges by,
Instead of complaining, they always apologise!
They oughta get angry, and maybe get pushy too:
Say, “HEY! Look AT me!
See, I’m a PERSON, really very like you!”
Invisible ladies, everyone knows one …
They live in our houses …
You probably call yours “MUM!”
(This is an anthem for all fifty-somethings - Chaps too!)
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