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Spittin’ feathers

She come tearing down the highway

Looking for a friend, pedal to the metal

God knows how this’ll end. There'd

Been a mystery phone call, a woman

Badly wronged, now here the injured

Party, spittin’ feathers, knives and



'Have you been messin' with my man'?

'Have you had him to bed'? 'Don't try to lie

It's on the wire, it's on the internet'. And

So it was for all to read across the world

Wide web, advice was rife, herewith a

Slice, 'You should’ve married Fred'.


But that's no consultation when you love

A man to bits, you gave him all the love

You have and cashed in all your chips.

Where had the story come from? Who

Was it on the phone? And why, her friend

Asked earnestly, 'Would I wreck another's



Well, that’s as maybe’ cried her friend, ‘you

Callin’ me a liar’? ‘I know the signs, you

Can’t deny that where there’s smoke there’s

Fire’. ‘That’s a jealous mind you’ve got my

Dear and one you need to calm, and as for

Messin’ with your man, you couldn’t be

More wrong’.


I don’t know all the details but I know who

Made the call, Jim’s sister rang from

Memphis ‘bout a party in the fall’. ‘His

Sister passed the phone the Mike, who

Passed the phone to Pat, a cousin from

Ohio who said she’d ring him back’.


A mix-up over nothin’, a teacup storm at

Best, you’ve got your knickers in a twist,

No one’s had Jim to bed’. ‘A phone call

Partly overheard, by gossip’s chewin' fat,

An’ here you are suggestin’ I’ve gone

Behind your back’. ‘Why look at me in

Anger?' 'Why get yourself wound up?'

Why look for trouble where there's none,

What kinda friend is that?


Home’s where I belong now I’ll leave your

Pot to stew, in time you’ll see that I was

Right, it was nothin’ but fake news. You

Can call me when you calm down, best leave

It for a while, I’ll see you when I see you,

Down the store or round the Mall.

© Joseph G Dawson

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