When We Had Maureen To Dine

WHEN WE HAD "MAUREEN" TO DINE The table was set for eight, all curtains drawn Each joint of meat neatly piled up, all as sawn Upstairs the guests were getting ready to dine Men in their black tuxedos; looking at the time As so the ladies in their heavy satin ball gowns Known to each other but; from different towns Dinner gong sounded all making their way down To more than an impressive sight does astound Teak paneled walls; which adorned, exquisite art Gilded mirrors witness to secrets; not to depart Thickest of red velvet curtains; that heavily hung The musty stuffed bird in a cage that never sung Gold candle holders placed; upon the regal table The burning wax candles; giving light where able Each took their allotted places; all ready to feast No prayers given their hunger truly is unleashed I having no belly as for the more seasoned meat Spied the more tender slivers of a brain; so neat As beckoning the waiter; placed it upon my plate And with a kind of relish, I thus with care did ate This brain was like no other a fair morsel in taste So; with small minted peas savoured in no haste Lightly steamed and thinly sliced, no season gave Silver platter duly empty, no morsel was I to save Finishing it; with a fluted glass of Beaujolais wine Maureen’s skull I made into a goddess like shrine As to never forget when we had Maureen, to dine And pray one day that her poetic talents, be mine Belch; Damn it, McGreavy did you just repeat on me there . . . ; ) Disclaimer: I wish to point out that the real Maureen McGreavy was not used in the making of this poem and is still very much alive and kicking . . . ; ) Indiana Shaw . . . ; )