My searching eye through a casement surveys
A private scene of desolation that conveys
(to me who plays the oddest of guessing games -
Sizing people up through their window frames)
A picture of a maiden who herself neglects
And on the world’s foibles unselfishly reflects.
Here in a narrow room with a view much wider
Lives Miss Fliberty – if at home you can find her
Adornments and décor so spartan and few
No drauses and trappings they spoil the view
Here quick-quaffed and forgotten, the cup that cheers
There, more cups left stacked in washing arrears
When telephone in hand she took her case
From another’s cup her thirst to appease
Knick-knacks and stuff in confusion scatteredThus the
chaos mounted as she lay back and nattered
Or with another tongue-wagger she went into a huddle
And straight facts wound up in one glorious muddle.
One thing alone keeps the lady on her toes -
Out larking with other peaple’s hijincks and woes
Who stole from whom how many kisses
Who’s trysting with who elses Missus
Whose son eloped with whose daughter
Who ought’nt to have wed whom and who oughta
All day with Dame Rumour she does tarry
Providence shall spare the lucky suitor she won’t marry
When he with whispered sweet nothings will come a-wooing
She with raucus chatter will reward his cooing
He’ll ditch her for a cute mute in mid-career
Foiled not by faint heart but by sore ear.
- Jude Gray