This piggy woman is convinced
That she is delectable,
A raconteuse, a razor wit
A sparkling intellectual.
She’s in a company of four,
Her talking never ends,
She prattles on and on and on
Excluding her three friends.
Valiantly each one tries
Then tries and tries some more
To contribute a word or two,
But it’s not what she’s there for.
For she would need to listen
And she will not have that,
They’re only there to listen to
Her endless stream of chat.
I listen hard to what she says,
Her facile, mindless prattle
And tiresome “Me, me” monologue
Sounds like a baby’s rattle.
I hear no sign or evidence
Of intellect or wit,
And as for beauty when I look,
I see no sign of it.
I think her only talent,
(Or should that be a crime?)
She can talk and eat spaghetti
Both at the same time?
This pig-like woman never could,
Make any suitor swoon,
And as for intellect she’s just
A big hot air balloon!
17.11.2012