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
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