Tales of Bygone Lovers

Violin

Due to your mother's reassurance,

And the belief that I could bring procurance

For your 16th birthday

I gifted you my Violin

Expected your breath to be taken away

And it immediately placed under your chin 

Never imagined such a gesture be forsaken 

Oh, how I couldn't have been more mistaken

Rated it a mere 7/10

Took it into your room and then 

It was never looked at, let alone played, again 

No worse insult was ever undertaken

Two months later, when I returned

I took back my present that you spurned

But was stopped at the airport

By a uptight, haughty bitch:

'Your instrument isn't valid for transport'

Without remorse, the evil witch

'Chose between that or your suitcase

'Or create £50 from empty space.'

Her anger onto me, wasn't fair

I don't care if her day did assault 

Because after all, it's not my fault 

She works for shitty Ryanair 

I inquired, trying to keep a peace of mind

'What will happen, if it leave it behind?'

'It will be incinerated.'

'WHAT?!' 

'That's how the policy is fated.'

Got on the plane hyperventilating 

With hatred and anger powerfully pulsating

Called my auntie for help, breaking down into tears

'Help me! My violin! Please help me!' Was all I could plea

Before a nice stewardess came up to me:

'It's been put on the plane, have no fears.' 

Maybe that's when I started to disengage 

Because of my greatly repressed outrage

Exacerbated by the gall

Of your indifference to my torment 

None of which would have occurred at all

If you'd just played the fucking instrument

To this day, I still haven't a clue

How my luck had miraculously come through

But at least there's still a chance it can bring someone to glory

And will never be chucked down a furnace bin

And that is the woeful story

Of my poor, old Violin