Lines Composed in Pittsford Parking Lot on a Rainy Day
Oh the parking lot prowl
Will cause you to growl
As you seek for a free open space
You go round in an arc
Like a gull or a lark
Wheeling in patterns like lace
And you've got the fantods
'Cause it's raining stair-rods
As our British relations would claim
You peer through the murk
As you hopefully lurk--
When "At long last!" You exclaim
But she's got three small brats
Three cuddly rug rats
To tuck in and buckle and settle
She hivers and hovers
As she carefully covers
This puts you for sure on your mettle
For three claimants behind you
Are there to remind you
That war to the death might ensue
They hunch o'er their wheels
And no sort of appeals
Will budge them—they're sticking like glue
Then you’re sure she'll leave soon
But she hangs on until noon
Poking at a device on her lap
She fiddles and fidgets
Employing her digits
While the children take a nice nap
We all wait and we wait
But she'll gae her ain gait
She cares not for tide nor for time
She's scolding her spouse
(That philandering louse)
While I think up a penultimate rhyme
Well she leaves at long last
With a smart snooty blast
On her ponderous SUV's horn
She's deliberately sat there
Decided to squat there
To convey her suburbanite scorn
Well those three other chaps
Have found places perhaps
Leave you of course holding the bag
So you finally park
Having lost any spark
You feel like a limp, worn out rag
Thus the parking lot story
At least was not gory
Though full of frustration and grief
But I shared my despair
And I now will declare
It was, thank you, an enormous relief!
Judith Judson
--With apologies and thanks to Sir William Schwenk Gilbert
No comments:
Post a Comment