Whistlers Daughter
I can't, whistle I, wish I could.
When I hear folk whistle, it sounds good
I'm like a kettle without a spout,
I purse my lips but, no sound comes out.
Blow girl, blow, the sound will come,
Whistling comes easy to everyone,
Says my husband gleefully,
As he whistles merrily.
I am starting to bristle,
Eighty-four, and still can't whistle.
My father could not bear to hear,
When my mother whistled loud and clear.
He said " A whistling woman and a crowing hen,
Are neither fit for God nor men."
I switch the radio on to my favourite station,
And sing and dance with jubilation.
Copyright © Shirley Hawkins | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment