Ladies who lunch

“Sir, that table is always taken”,
Said the maitre’d to me
“Indeed, if I’m not mistaken,
From midday to half-past three.”

The group are usually four or five
Never more than six
Flashy cars all of them drive
Of wealth and race, it’s quite a mix

A gust of shrieks and cackles
Signal commencement of the do
It’s guaranteed to raise the hackles
Of plebs like me and you

The first trays then appear
Not of food but drink
Cocktails colourful, some quite queer
What’s in them, I shudder to think !

Soprano, mezzo, coloratura
Voices all, but not a chorus
A screeching, atonal appoggiatura
Has one reaching for a thesaurus

Eventually a waiter appears
And orders for food are taken
Everyone seems to have dieting fears
And he’s called back – the order for meat was mistaken

Having finished my meal, I must leave
The Lunching Ladies to go about their eating
A stream of gossip and chats they do weave
About their menfolk, there is plenty of bleating

“Same time tomorrow, Sir ?”,
Said the maitre’d to me
Both of us nod as we concur
“From midday to half-past three”.


About TI

TI is based in Auckland, New Zealand. TI's somewhat eclectic interests include (but are certainly not limited to) legal humour (the law can be funny), good wine, the search for the best possible chocolate, alcoholic beverages, travel, commercial aircraft, photography, weird news stories and classical music.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s