A Dish Best Served Cold
I am an abandoned woman you see!
In a painful literal sense, that’s me
He’s just upped and gone is the cruel truth
Because I’ve been told he’s run off with Ruth?
Twenty-five years then ups and leaves
So while I trusted he deceives
With a slip of a girl half his age
And I am left in a terrible rage
Should’ve guessed soon as I noticed the change
But at the time washing more often didn’t seem strange
Soap, water and him had never been on friendly terms!
To my mind, his body was a breeding ground for germs
Then, it was clean socks and then CLEAN UNDIES!
Something he’d only ever done on Sundays!
So you see…all the clues were there
But I was blissfully unaware
“Are they Calvin Klein’s?” I enquired tight lipped
Because it had been some time since I’d seen him stripped.
At his age with all his dangly bits restricted like that
What if they were to drop off and land on the cat?
Well Ruth used to be Captain of the Ladies Cricket Team
Before Husband stealing became her currently favoured scheme
So if she failed to catch ‘em she would think it a fix
Though I would prefer it if she batted his balls to the boundary for six!
Then at least I would gain some small satisfaction
Because I readily admit the idea holds some attraction
I don’t see why they should get away with hurting me?
But I want something more than that… now just let me see…
I know...although I’ve heard revenge is a dish best served cold
It won’t stop me grabbing Ruth's throat in a gentle asphyxiating hold!
And visitors and friends to the house will not need their spectacles
To clearly see the glass jar where we now keep his testicles!