Tittle-Tattle Poem by Sheena Blackhall

You should have seen your man at the bar on Friday!
Over Daniel's wife he was like rash
Didn't you wonder where he was till Sunday?
Daniel's wife is the village bike, white trash.

Then, at the fair, he danced with Mary Purdy
And you in childbed too, in June last year!
Men can be beasts, and you are too forgiving
How understanding…a saint you are my dear!

Mrs McAndrew saw him a week last Monday
Take Nancy behind the bushes, randy sod
It's not for gossip I'm telling you…no, truly
If he was mine I'd neuter him by God!

What did you say? She's welcome to your leavings?
Surely you're vexed he's got a roving eye!
A dog puts its nose in any old plate of porridge
My, you're the cool one girl. I thought you'd cry.

How can he leave your bed to sport with others?
Don't you despise him? Doesn't your heart break?
The first time, yes, but it mends like a scab that hardens
Duty's the key. I stay for the childrens' sake.