Vraiment, we don't see eye to eye.
You never listen when I try to talk;
Oui, ta moustache is crumbed with pie!
Ah, you assume that it's so merveilleux,
For me to be your trophy-wife;
Well, I've got news for you, ma chérie,
Je pense how best to use my knife!
Must you approve my clothes—my time to speak;
It bores me, being round for show;
You should have wed le modèle, wax, at Arrod's;
She suits you to the ground, you know.
Don't think me totalement ungrateful,
You always said I could be "arch",
Ce soir 'as made my mind up for me;
Le matin, I sign up to MARCH!
|A Dinner Table at Night by John Singer Sargent (1884)|
The above poem was written in response to the image you see over this caption. The original post for inspiration can be found at The Mag #129. Here you will undoubtedly find a wealth of other interpretations for the image.