So sick and tired of all those marketing calls
Accent is mid-western or a southern drawl
Calling me at meal time; boy, they have the gall!
Each annoying speech makes my epidermis crawl
Blocked numbers keep on blowing up my phone
Wish I was someone else; act like I been cloned
Tempted not to answer; fake like I'm not home
I give in and answer; now my cover's blown
'Is the lady of the house in? ' starts their argument
'She is not available'; throw them off the scent
Ignore me completely; start talking from a script
Pitch everything from burial plots to vacation trips
They just keep on talking, so I lay down the phone
Pick up a minute later; they still rambling on
No use to beg or plead; they won't go away
Then the final insult, they put me on auto-play
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem