homage to a waitress of character
McGroarity's a catty waitress
She's called the hidden paw
Because if you look at her crooked
She might sock you in the jaw
McGroarity, McGroarity,
There's no one like McGroarity
She's a fiend in female form
A waitress of deprorvity
You may order a cappuccino
Or a caffe latte rare
But when you reach the counter
Your discount isn't there
McGroarity McGroarity
There's no waitress like McGroarity
She'll keep your ten percent discount
And bust you down to porverty
You may seek her at the cash register
Or behind the frigidaire
But when you go back to the counter
McGroarity isn't there
You'll find her doing dishes
Or long division sums
Or munching rather daintily
On buttered currant buns
McGroarity McGroarity
She's ruder than she oughterbe
I'd complain to the management
But I'm afraid that she might slaughter me
And when your bill looks addled
Or there's pepper in the trifle
Or when the milk is curdled
Or another poet's been stifled
You may race with all your might
A tearing of your hair
But when you reach the counter
McGroarity isn't there
McGroarity, McGroarity
There's no waitress like McGroarity
I shouldn't have to worry about this sort of rubbish
For God's sake I'm over forrity
(With apologies to TS Eliott. No really. I'm very sorry.)
She's called the hidden paw
Because if you look at her crooked
She might sock you in the jaw
McGroarity, McGroarity,
There's no one like McGroarity
She's a fiend in female form
A waitress of deprorvity
You may order a cappuccino
Or a caffe latte rare
But when you reach the counter
Your discount isn't there
McGroarity McGroarity
There's no waitress like McGroarity
She'll keep your ten percent discount
And bust you down to porverty
You may seek her at the cash register
Or behind the frigidaire
But when you go back to the counter
McGroarity isn't there
You'll find her doing dishes
Or long division sums
Or munching rather daintily
On buttered currant buns
McGroarity McGroarity
She's ruder than she oughterbe
I'd complain to the management
But I'm afraid that she might slaughter me
And when your bill looks addled
Or there's pepper in the trifle
Or when the milk is curdled
Or another poet's been stifled
You may race with all your might
A tearing of your hair
But when you reach the counter
McGroarity isn't there
McGroarity, McGroarity
There's no waitress like McGroarity
I shouldn't have to worry about this sort of rubbish
For God's sake I'm over forrity
(With apologies to TS Eliott. No really. I'm very sorry.)
2 Comments:
I LOVE McCavity!!!! Elliot should be honoured.
The creority of this poem is amazing.
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