A cannibal bold of Penzance
Ate an uncle and two of his aunts,
A cow and her calf,
An ox and a half,
And now he can’t button his pants.
“One of the things Ford Prefect had always found hardest to understand about humans was their habit of continually stating and repeating the very very obvious, as in It’s a nice day, or You’re very tall, or Oh dear you seem to have fallen down a thirty-foot well, are you alright? At first Ford had formed a theory to account for this strange behaviour. If human beings don’t keep exercising their lips, he thought, their mouths probably seize up. After a few months’ consideration and observation he abandoned this theory in favour of a new one. If they don’t keep on exercising their lips, he thought, their brains start working. After a while he abandoned this one as well as being obstructively cynical.”
And I have been humbled once again.
Here I stand, alone. Alive. All on my lonesome.
Ditched. Left alone. Betrayed.
And the walls have now been repaired.
Never shall I fall in love again.
Since I am the one who seems to be falling in the process.
The other side just waits.
Boo to you all for losing me. I feel sorry for you.
In the future, when you look back on your past and think of me, you will realize what you have lost.
I am a good woman, a good one indeed.
You threw me away, and now I shall return the favour.
You didn’t deserve me and I didn’t deserve to be treated the way I was treated.
And now I walk in the rain, hoping Mother Nature’s tears can camouflage mine.
Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.