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!)