No Tea Party

NO TEA PARTY The lid is rising on the kettle’s song, Likewise my energy wastes itself in air, Don’t call me when the tea’s made, I’ll be gone. I left my true self with your vulgar throng Now drawn and quartered, they arraign me with a stare, The lid is rising on the kettle’s song. To have believed in you, and not in long Speeches of your drab affair – Don’t call me when the tea’s made, I’ll be gone. No one pushed me, but I see that I was wrong, I’ve said it all, but I won’t bow, so there! The lid is rising on the kettle’s song. I should have known it, and the bells can bong Each Sunday of the year without our heir, Don’t call me for the christening, I’ll be gone I did without a wedding, honeymoon, even the pong Of babies, so there’s no joy for us to share – The lid is hopping on the kettle’s song – Don’t call me. When the tea’s made, I’ll be gone. BY ROSEMARIE ROWLEY