A rich old lady came to tea
Her face was full of apathy
I asked her if she fancied me
But she was barely listening.
It seems her husband lets her down
He doesn't dig her disco sound.
He makes her pay for every round
While his career is fizzling.
She said so sorry to be rude
But she could not abide our food.
I asked to see her in the nude
But I don't think she heard me.
She showed me photos of her daughter
While my dad went out and bought her
Several crates of special water
She said ours was dirty.
Her hands were like old withered claws
No wonder she fell off her horse
I told her she should get divorced
But she just plain ignored me.
She said that she would love to stay
But she had business in L.A.
She'd change her outfit on the way
To something chic but whorey.
As she left she kissed my nose
She said I was an English Rose
I offered to take off my clothes
But she was on the porch now
She left behind her walking stick
Her attitude got on my wick
I hope our muffins made her sick
On Sting and Gwyneth Paltrow.
tags: madonna pop music kabbalah gwyneth poems
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