Mohammed al Suwaidi's Cup of Tea

Mohammed al Suwaidi's cup of tea
has multiple and changing definitions:
a rainy Sunday, thoughtful company,
black hansoms, London's Constables and Titians.
No less diverse, we find, are its negations:
football, less than gentlemanly manners,
dirty commuter trains and noisy stations,
demonstrators shouting, waving banners.
He learned the phrase in England. Now he tends
to treat it like a cherished souvenir.
He dusts it down, displays it to his friends,
its many facets, clever, coy and queer,
and milks it for the conversational leverage
afforded by his yet untasted beverage.

After Edgar

Long ago upon a hilltop (let me finish then I will stop)
I espied a curious traveller where no traveller was before.
As I raised an arm in greeting all at once he took to beating
at the air like one entreating passing boats to come ashore
like a castaway repeating empty movements from the shore
or an over-eager whore.

Never one to wonder blindly I demanded not unkindly
"Are you waving, or behaving in a manner heretofore
generally unexpected, or perhaps you have neglected
to observe the mien affected by humanity before?"
(For he seemed to have elected to gesticulate some more.)
Quoth the traveller "Semaphore"

Agnes on Decorum

See if Ah wiz him Ah wudny staun fur thoan,
no if Ah wiz President. Ah mean tae say
it's jist no dacent like. If Ah wiz oan
the telly Ah'd sune tell them whit tae dae
wi aa thur questions. Aye Ah wud an aa
an stuff thur bliddy cameras up thur erse.
Ah'd jist say it wiz great an thur's hee-haw
youz lot can dae aboot it noo. Weel ferr's
ferr, it's no as if he wiz the poap
or Ian Paisley - thoan wud be a laugh,
speshly if it wiz wi the queen - some hope,
Chookie wud kill the perr o them. He's aff
his heid an aa. Here Maggie, whit's the odds
thae Yanks'll huv him coupit? Sully sods . . .

Agnes on Martyrs

Hidin, me? Ah'll gie ye hidin
Ah've bin doon ra cellar humpin
bliddy barrels. Wherr wis you'n yer
fancy man that drives the loarry?

's aye the same oan Friday. Maggie
therr goes poancin aff fur denner
jist afore thae Tennents Lager
wankers bring their bliddy loarry.

Last week ye wis daein the bukes,
the wan afore ye're in the cludgie
next week ye'll be christ knows wherr
but muggins hus tae dae the loarry.

See when Ah'm a mullionerre
an you an Maggie's oan yer uppers
Ah'll be aff tae Bennydorm
sae bugger you an stuff the loarry!