Aunty Mays

Every Sunday I never had a say
packed off to tea to Aunty May

I would gaze at the table in dread
And think
were those tongue sandwiches
really dead?

They seemed to lick thier crusty lips
And crack half a smile,
but the places those tongues have been
were rather vile.

The sherry triffle was a wobblin' and waitin'
I could really go for that
OOOH no our Tracy its got real sherry in
you'll be on your back.

God tea at Mays was such a drag
and when I got home
I would
empty those tongues from my
Barbie bag.