In Ravenscourt Park there was an old man
Who lived in an alabaster cave
Each morning he’d eat Bitterness on Toast
Then for work he would leave
With his glass jar tucked under his arm
Hobbling through the streets
Waiting for the moment tension would strike
To gather his bittersweet treat
Throughout the day he’d fill his jar
Revelling in its growing weight
Daydreaming the joy of getting home
To eat his sandwich filled with hate
To sit at the table with his favourite plate
And fill his belly full of misery
Then off to bed he’d take himself
Where he would dream of history

The dreams weren’t much different
From the days that he had
Except for the ring on his finger
And the smile that greeted him at the door
But the bitterness it did linger
While he ate his sandwich filled with hate
His wife ate strawberry jam
Too sweet was the taste of her lips
It angered the little old man
Night after night he’d dream of those lips
A never ending cycle of torment
Waking up to the brim with anxiety
Ready for a day of resentment