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C J Dennis - Mutton
Work rating: Medium

In the everlasting summer, when the town is limp with heat,
and the asphalt of the footpath curls your boots and burns your feet:
When you`re creased and crabbed and sodden, and can hardly raise a crawl,
And the persperation`s drippin` in a constant waterfall;
There`s a penetratin` odor gets abroad and fairly roars;
It will creep in through the keyholes and it sneaks beneath the doors;
And it fills your happy home up from the cellar to the roof,
Until ev`ry other odour holds its breath and stands aloof.
 
                 That`s Mutton!   Mutton!
                 Everlastin` Mutton!
All-pervadin`, never-fadin` smell of cookin` sheep.
Into ev`ry room `twill roam, chasin` you from house and home,
Mutton flaunted, mutton-haunted, even in your sleep.
 
You can smell it in the parlour, you can feel it in the hall,
you can HEAR it in the kitchen, where it hugs you like a pall,
Hov`ring o`er your couch at midnight, wafting thro` your troubled sleep:
First to greet you in the mornin` when the day begins to peep.
Seek you vainly to evade it in an open-air retreat,
It will rise and upper-cut you, from the gratin`s in the street.
Vain are all your disinfectants, for they fail the woes to drown
Of a mutton-ridden people in a mutton-scented town.
 
Oh, the irony of hearin` songs about the home, sweet home;
When you swelter in an oven where the kitchen odours roam.
When each kindly word is wafted on a mutton-scented breeze,
And each sigh stirs up remembrance of a week of hashed-up teas;
Where endearing terms are flavoured with a touch of mutton raw,
And you sample last week`s dinner, ev`ry tender breath you draw.
Do you wonder that our home-life isn`t what it ought to be?
Do you know what sets us drinkin`, in our abject misery?
 
                 It`s Mutton!   Mutton!
                 Soul-destroyin` Mutton!
Over-cloudin`, odour-shroudin` all in life that`s bright;
By a thoughtless movement stirred, chokin` down a kindly word,
Ever-present, effervescent, mornin`, noon and night.
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