WHAT is this life if, full of care,
WHY are you sat down, writing, there?
We have no time to stand and stare?—
I’m tearing out my fucking hair!
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
I care not for your literary ‘wow’s
And stare as long as sheep and cows:
I’ve asked you TWICE to help me now
No time to see, when woods we pass,
GET UP you fucker, OFF YOUR ASS
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
Look at you, sat there, bold as brass
No time to see, in broad daylight,
So help me, you best see me right
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
Or that’s the END of your delight
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
The job won’t kill you – take a chance
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
I see you stutter, halt and blanch
No time to wait till her mouth can
And so I’ll introduce that ban
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
Why can’t you try to understand?
A poor life this if, full of care,
If you won’t help me here and there
We have no time to stand and stare.
My life, then, you’ll no longer share.
Our prompt today was to take a famous poem and make a parody of it, or a satire. I’m not sure what either of those was, and I was too tired to research, so I wrote a snarky reply to W. H. Davies’ poem ‘Leisure’.