And Trifle…

It's the usual thing they offer,
When you enter an old person's home,
Biscuits, tea and trifle,
They just won't leave you alone!

So you mumble your thanks so graciously so,
As you try to avoid all that offered,
But still they insist, thought you try to decline!
But they won't have any of it!

So trifle in the bowl, biscuits on the plate,
Another cuppa-t in your hand,
You see it all floating around,
And you're not feeling very grand!

The jelly in the trifle looks funny,
The custard looks really thick,
And the mushy stuff in the bottom…
To be honest, it makes you wana be sick!!!

But you wont offend the old dear,
So you mumble your way through the lot,
When really and truly, what can one say,
But these old dears should be shot!

But you have to love them really,
For they are the folks of years gone by,
And all their stories and tales of old,
Bring many a tear to the eye!

So you suffer in silence as one does,
And eat and drink all you are able,
Until at last, you can be thankful for that!
Cos you're now sitting at an empty table!

Tea, and biscuits – and trifle!
What a combination to work your way through!
And as you escape through the door once more,
You promise to return once again, as you do!

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