THE WORLD BEYOND THE WINDOW

My armchair by the window brings the world into my life,

where I can share it's happiness, excitement and its strife.

Here's Mrs. Arbuthnott walking Ping, the Pekinese,

she's ninety but can walk a mile or two with perfect ease.

Mr. King, the butcher, now then, he's another matter,

he could sell a miner coal when he turns on the patter.

Sally Small, the stylist, from the beauty shop next door,

knows well his saucy bantor and I've heard, a great deal more!

Ah, here comes the Vicar, he's go something on his mind,

he's come out in his cassock but his collar's left behind.

Maybe it's the roof, his church is leaking like a sieve

And there's a bucket now where Lady Mabel's pew, did live.

Mary Smythe is pregnant, she is seven months or more,

I hope the baby's early or she won't get through the door.

Will it be a boy or girl? Let's hope it's one or other,

I jest, for Mary has the makings of a perfect mother.

Here come the children off to school, their uniforms in place,

when they come back again tonight, that may not be the case.

Their faces will be dirty and their ties will be askew

and there'll be scuffs and undone laces on at least one shoe.

Oh, the noise that bus is making, coming to a stop,

He's picking up the Benson sisters off to do a shop.

Sandra buys the groceries and things they both find handy,

While Martha, between you and me, is only there for brandy.

Well, that's it for now, I think I'll have cup of tea.

Thanks for dropping in and spending this short while with me.

Come again and I'll update you on the world outside,

observed from this old arm chair, by the window, where I hide.