It was early in the morning,
When the phone calls first began,
Coffee brewing in the pot,
Bacon frying in the pan.
The jingle of the telephone,
At such an early hour,
Caught me in my biscuit dough,
Knee deep in whole wheat flour.
Thinking that it surely must
Be bad news of some kind,
I headed for the telephone,
Premonition on my mind.
The parakeet picks now to sing,
The dog is chasing cat,
I stumble over ball and glove,
And Juniorís baseball bat.
"Good morning, how are you? " Voice said,
Someone I didnít know,
Warily I answered them,
"Oh, things are somewhat slow."
"Well have we got a deal for you,
Itís sure your lucky day,
Weíll sign you up, and then weíll give
You many months to pay!"
"No, I donít think you understand,
I donít need what youíre selling,
And so Iím hanging up right now,
Cause you wonít like me yelling!"
And after I have hung up,
Responses fill my mind,
Things I wish that I had said,
While they still were on the line.
Now thereís flour in my hair,
And the bacon is quite burned,
But still there is a lesson here,
I hope that I have learned.
That if the phone rings off the hook,
And it is at mealtime,
Itís bound to be a telemarketer,
WhoĎs out to make a dime.
© 2003 Loree (Mason) OíNeil
To Send This To A Friend Click The Buttons Below: