For once in your life, I really wish you would behave
And whatever it is that I can’t see, I wish you would stop doing
Please try to remember, I’m not your bloody slave.
Regarding your behaviour, I try to be pragmatic
But whatever it is that I can hear, please stop chewing
For the love of all that is good and holy, I really wish you would behave.
Your presence at the window is disturbing all the blue tits
I imagine they are scared by the amount that you are drooling
But I can’t keep hiding bodies for you, I’m not your bloody slave.
You know that no-one on this Teams call is amused by all your antics?
That your stairs don’t reach the attic is what they’re all concluding
I’m supposed to be working! I really wish you would behave.
You’ll come off second best if you take on quantum mechanics
Your impressions of Schrodinger’s Cat is not at all amusing
Principally I’m uncertain that you know I’m not your bloody slave.
I demand that you stay within the laws of thermodynamics
Although even Newton couldn’t calculate all the energy you’re consuming
I’m begging you for the last time, I really wish you would behave
Except… we both know it won’t be the last time. I am just your bloody slave.
Hey look! It’s a villanelle! No, not the charmingly unhinged and stylishly psychotic assassin from Luke Jennings’ books, but a style of 17th century poem marked by a nineteen-line structure with two oft-repeated refrains. If it looks familiar, it’s because you remember Dylan Thomas’ “Do not go gentle into that good night” or WH Auden’s “If I could tell you”, which is a villanelle turned into a pop song by The Communards.
It's a Queer Old Blog... 