Coffee and Food

Funeral Blues (Song IX / from Two Songs for Hedli Anderson)

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum.

My life is over, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead.

Scribbling in the sky the message, fun is dead,

Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

It was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest.

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought we would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.

Hide all the food, I cannot buy it;

For the Boss has put me on a diet.

With apologies to;

Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-1973)