Each month we arrive for our regular date;
there’s wine in a bottle and crisps on a plate,
but we can’t begin yet because somebody’s late –
let’s have wine, and then start on the book.

There’s discussion of husbands and children and lives
(slightly confusing for those who aren’t wives)
and gossip about those who haven’t arrived,
before we can get to the book.

Now another whole bottle of wine is gone,
so our hostess puts the kettle on –
‘Anyone fancy a strawberry scone?’ –
and we still haven’t got to the book.

One hasn’t finished – don’t tell her the end!
One thinks it’s the best book that ever was penned.
One hates it – she’s passing hers on to a friend –
but at least we’re discussing the book.

Now the wine is all gone, there’s no food left to eat,
so a date is arranged for the next time to meet,
and we make our goodbyes as we sway down the street –
maybe next time we’ll finish the book!