Penny Blake
The Lady With The Wyvern…
Once upon a teatime merry, as I set my table heavy
Laden up with scones and crumpets, florentines and cakes galore
Whilst I sat, my tea a –lapping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my parlour door
‘Tis some visitor,’ I muttered ‘tapping at my parlour door
Wanting tea, oh what a bore!’
Up I leapt, I well remember, flung the tea into the fender
Grabbed the table, newly laden, cast its contents to the floor
Eagerly I sought the dustpan, with its brush and so I began
To erase the scene of plenty, lest this guest from me implore
Sustenance. I, diligently, swept each last crumb from the floor
Evidence was there no more.
Still the tapping came, now ruder, heralding this bold intruder
‘Gods above’, thought I, ‘a teatime never suffered thus before’
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
‘Let them in, tis merry meeting, not a crumb sits on the floor.
Chat a while and then, politely, show them once again the door.
Then begin the tea once more.’
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
‘Sir’ said I ‘or Madam truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was lapping tea, no, sorry, I was napping
And so gently you came tapping, tapping at my parlour door
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door: –
Darkness there and nothing more.
Feeling vexed, my temper miffin, at this wanton waste of tiffin
And unfounded fears that caused me to cast all upon the floor,
Silently I stood upbraiding, all my senses and degrading
Every cell which had imagined rapping at my parlour door
‘Fool’ I muttered ‘now the table must be spread as was before.
What an utter bloody chore.’
Back again to spread the table, just as fast as I was able
Soon again I heard a tapping, somewhat louder than before
‘Surely,’ said I ‘tis no fancy, this time and I must happensee
What it is that so insists on plaguing thus my parlour door
Let my teacup rest a moment and this mystery I’ll explore
Then I’ll sup in peace once more.’
Open here I flung, with meaning, parlour door and, brightly gleaming,
In there stepped a clockwork wyvern, hot breath crackling the air
Not a single greeting gave he, not a moment stopped or stayed he
But, as I cried ‘some god save me from this beast oh I declare,’
Perched himself upon the silken cushion of my favourite chair –
‘Look here, sunshine that’s my chair!’
Not forgetting I was British, though I felt a little skittish
At the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore
‘Sir,’ I said ‘Would you partake, with me, in having tea and cake?
As you can see a finer table never was there spread before –
But the creature shook its head and, pointing to me with a claw,
Quoth the wyvern ‘One cup more.’
Much I chuckled this creation to hear hest, as if libation,
One more cup of this sweet nectar for myself I should now pour
‘sure’ said I ‘some fiend hath sent thee, For amusement he hath leant me
Tempter sent to thus torment me, with this mantra ‘one cup more’
Sent this brass abomination for amusement to implore
Me to drink ‘just one cup more’
But the wyvern, sitting brazen, on my cushions it had taken,
Fixed me with its burning eyes and, once again, it did implore
Nothing further then it spoke – till I said ‘tis some bad joke
But to appease thee I’ll oblige’ and so a cup I then did pour
Drank and thought the matter ended, rose to show the thing the door
Then it chanted ‘one cup more.’
‘Be that phrase our sign of parting, Hullish fiend!’ I shrieked, upstarting
‘Take thy talons from my teapot, and vacate my chair once more
Thou hast made a grave mistake in thinking I would certain break
My will and meekly thus partake, at your demand, this ‘one cup more’
Certain your corruption I will not endure a moment more
Quoth the wyvern ‘One cup more.’
‘Villain’, said I ‘thing of evil – sent from Hull and certain devil
I will lap this tea at leisure, and if I chose now to pour
For myself another cup, it’s only for myself I sup
And not a shred of credit to you, fiendish thing that doth implore
Wicked wyvern, by your words I’m putting neither stock nor store,
Still, I will have one cup more.’
And, alas, I still am sitting, still am sipping, still am sipping
On bequest of this grim wyvern, one cup more, just one cup more
And his eyes have all the seeming, of a demon’s that is scheming
And his scales, still brightly gleaming, I have come now to adore
As I, dutifully lift the teapot and again outpour
For myself ‘just one cup more…’
This just made my day, and it’s only 8 in the morning. 😀
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Splendid! 🙂 Looking forward to your banned books party next week!
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Thanks! 🙂
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What a wonderful version, just wish i could reblog no press this 😦
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Thankyou! I’m really glad you liked it 🙂 As for the reblog I think it’s because it’s a page and not a ‘post.’
‘Bear with’ as they say, and I shall invent some feeble excuse for including it in a post 🙂
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Can I share it on my blog?
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By all means! 🙂
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oh lovely Tea…it’s pretty much the best drink for any occasion, is it not? 😉 I know this is waaaaaay late but thank you for following my blog and for reading some of my work! it’s nice to see another fellow steampunker. i have a question for you. I am making a video essay for one of my classes and would like to show your blog in it, just for about 10 seconds on screen. Of course I will have your website URL in the credits, and if it’s all ok with my teacher I plan to upload the entire video to my other blog, Cyber Anthropology, so would it be ok if I had a small clip of your blog in my video? Thanks!
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Yay! Tea rules – and your blog is very awesome sweetheart, a pleasure to be following 🙂 And ‘yes of course’ to all your questions – you’re most welcome to use whatever you wish, hope it goes splendidly 🙂
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oh thank you so much! i will send you the link when it’s all done so you can see it 🙂
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well, here’s the finished project! Though i only ended up showing your site for a few seconds (had to cut the video down a bit), thanks for letting me do so! hope you enjoy 🙂
https://cyberanth.wordpress.com/2014/12/11/creating-identity-through-technology/
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Love it! Thanks for sharing!
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