Plurk paste

〈Monday Morning〉

On Monday morning all agree
that most annoying things can be.
Now I will tell you in this song
of one when everything went wrong.

The sun was early shining bright,
but not, of course, for my delight:
it woke the birds who woke mama,
who woke the boys, who woke papa;
it came and hit me in the eye,
though still I wished in bed to lie.
I rolled upon the other side,
and tried with sheets my head to hide;
but someone said: ‘’Tis nearly eight!
Get up! Get up, or you’ll be late!’

I filled the bath and took the sponge —
and then I took a sudden plunge:
some soap was lying on the floor,
I don’t know what the dickens for.
I slipped and fell in with a splash,
and gave my knee a nasty bash,
and [half the water out did > out I saw the water] pour
to join the soap upon the floor.
Of course my clothes were all upset
and lying in a pool of wet.
The breakfast bell I heard them ring,
but still I could not find the thing:
my stupid stud had rolled away
at hide-and-seek with me to play.
I trod on it and squashed it flat.
It served it right, a thing like that
to play such tricks. But what a bother!
I simply could not find another!
And still I had to scrape and shave —
O lucky chaps that in a cave
lived long ago and grew their hair
and did not wash or collars wear.
Though you may laugh, I did not grin
when off I sliced a piece of chin;
though you may snigger, I was hurt,
and spoiled my temper, towel and shirt.

At last I started to come down,
but someone else, some silly clown
(no doubt by purest accident,
these nasty turns are seldom meant)
had left the carpet on the stair
all ruckled up, and unaware
I tripped, and gave a startled yell
as down a dozen stairs I fell.
I landed on a sliding mat,
and in the hall went sprawling flat.

Just as I spoke an angry word,
the postman at the door I heard.
A pile of letters rattled in,
but still he rang and made a din;
and when I went and asked him why,
he held his hand out in reply:
a stampless letter sent to me
required a wretched double fee.
I opened it, and stood amazed,
for on a lengthy bill I gazed
demanding payment by return:
the sort of thing that ought to burn.
The rest, the ones that had their stamps
were just advertisements for lamps,
for motors, wine, cigars and books,
or begging-letters sent by crooks.

So feeling faint and hardly able
to look at food I came to table.
The boys all shouted in a chorus:
‘You never can get down before us!
You’re last again, and we must go,
It’s time for school. Your watch is slow!’
Then promptly [Chris > James] upset his tea,
and most of it went over me!

When mess and [Chris > James] were cleared away,
I took a sip without delay;
but only one, when through the door
he popped again and gave a roar;
the hair was wild upon his head,
‘I’ve left my pen behind!’ he said.

Then out he went, and never shut
the wretched door. I turned to cut
a piece of bread, when back he jumped
and cried: ‘I shall be late! I’ve pumped,
and pumped, and still my tyres are flat!
And also where, O where’s my hat?’
His hat was in the rack for boots,
his pen in another of his suits;
his tyres required that I should go
and give to each a hefty blow.

He mounted on his bike at last,
but started off a bit too fast:
he hit the kerb, and off he crashed.
Though nothing but his bell was smashed,
his books were tumbled in the dust,
and so was he. And so we must
return to have a wash and brush.
At last he went! There fell a hush.

The tea was cold, my face was hot.
Then in came [Michael > William] at a trot.
It seemed his trousers were all split,
and what did mother think of it!
She thought a lot, and said some more,
but not being father never swore.

When they were gone repairs to make,
I thought another bite I’d take.
I bit a [bit > piece] of buttered crust,
and crack! an ancient tooth I bust.
I sprang up with a yowl of pain,
and spilled a cup of tea again;
then rang the bell to clear away
and gave up breakfast for the day.

I sat and groaned. I stamped the ground,
and thus I heard a ghastly sound:
a jingling, crashing, banging bump
that made my startled heart go thump.
The maid had dropped the tray of crocks,
and all was cracked upon the rocks:
[every > the] cups and saucers, plates, and pot
in smithereens, the whole bang lot!

Then mother in dismay came tearing
to view the damage — never caring,
around a corner quick she slid
where some infernal nail was hid.
A rip — and half her frock was torn!
O joyous day! O happy morn!
But if you think that that’s the end
of all the fuss, you’re wrong, my friend.

While in the kitchen all was bother,
folk tumbling over one another,
two birds got out and left their cages.
We chased and hunted them for ages
with duster and with fishing-net,
and all the pictures were upset.
The steps we brought, and all in vain:
we only broke a window-pane.
Though one was caught, he lost a wing;
the other had the cheek to sing,
and through the broken window flew,
and vanished swiftly in the blue.

And still my tooth would not forget
the only crust that day I ate.
It nagged, until I gave a groan,
and said: ‘I will! I’ll telephone!
I’ll ring the dentist up and say:
Pull out what’s left of it to-day!’

But just as to the ’phone I went,
it rang itself. My ear I lent,
and heard an angry voice and loud
that said my name. My head I bowed.
‘O are you there?’ I heard it say
‘Have you forgotten! What’s to-day?
You said you’d meet me here at nine!
It’s ten o’clock, and still no sign!’
I answered sweetly: ‘No I’m not!
It’s Monday, and I’ve not forgot,
and never shall. But I’m not here.
I’m ill in bed and feeling queer.
Just go to blazes right away,
and ring me up from there some day!’

I slammed the thing upon the hook,
and back to bed my way I took —
no! not to bed! For it was Monday,
the jolly holiday, the fun-day,
the laundry day, the washing morn,
the day it’s pleasant to be born!
The bed was stripped, the mattress bare;
the room was filled with chilly air.

And so I sat upon the floor,
wondering what anything was for.
A stump of pencil then I found,
and squatting there upon the ground
upon a bill (they have clean backs,
unless they ask for income-tax)
I wrote this tale of fate unkind.
O laugh away! Don’t think I mind!