Oh Malachy, Malachy, Malachy
I’m in desperate need of a cup of tea
Preferably hot, and straight from the pot,
The perfect tea moment for tired old me.
But every time that kettle boils
My tea time plan you are ready to spoil
Your little lips they start to shake
As your little tummy starts to ache
Your achy tummy tells you its time,
along with the teapot giving you the sign,
That its time for you to have your grub
And my pot of hot tea I have to snub.
The sound of the water starting to rumble
Must make your belly start to grumble,
and prompt your regular milky fix
No time for my tea or a teatime Twix.
The sight of the cosy keeping it hot,
Means that you are allowed, but I am not,
To settle down for an afternoon snack
And signals the caffeine that I now lack.
The clink of the cup against the saucer
Means that really I know I ought to,
Put down my drink and prepare to feed
After all, its just tea, am I really in need?
On the odd occasion when I get the tea poured,
And biscuits are retrieved from the cupboard
I settle down on the sofa ready to drink,
Well then what happens, what do you think?
I’ve just delighted in the first biscuity dunk,
The gingery snap soaked as it’s being sunk,
Into the deep tea flavoured pool
The moment that awaits me is making me drool.
Just as the biscuit starts falling apart,
(This dunking lark is really an art)
I’d better eat quick, as a familiar sound,
Starts to fill the room all around.
You’re soft little cry starts nice and quiet,
Just time to continue with my ‘biscuit tea’ diet.
But the volume increases, and as the cry becomes shrill,
I’ll forget my tea, its not a big deal…
Because I’d rather cuddle you close to me
Than drink a cup of hot, tasty tea.
But how about we make a deal?
I can have one after your milky meal?