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Wondering who will come by for tea,
Medusa reclines on her red settee.
Her table settings are beyond compare,
she puts out cards on who sits where.
She just adores entertaining guests
and never considers them noisy pests.
Attendees don’t have much to say,
once they come, it’s where they’ll stay.
Cold Hors d'oeuvres are just the thing,
To make every summer party sing!
On Mexican night it’s chili for a crowd!
And won’t her hungry diners be wowed!
But before the guests can show their delight
They’re turned to stone by the very first bite
Medusa likes to rule the dinner time chatter,
Telling tales of herself that really don’t matter
The emerald eyed snakes who sit in her hair,
Tsk! Tsk! their forked tongues at her stony stare
Whatever is a poor hostess s to do,
when her dinner guests don’t say boo!
She has been a favorite of mine and Namakula’s – it turns out- since we were both kids. She is terrifying. But her story is also a sad one. She did not end up with that reptilian chapeau through any fault of her own. So, when I wrote the poem, I wanted to make her sort of silly and a 60’s sitcom hostess was the direction we landed on for the record. We tried a laugh track but it didn’t really serve the purpose we were hoping it would. It confused the vibe and we wanted to keep it light but also keep the audience aware that this IS a monster serving up the meal. You can almost hear Namakula shaking her head at this hapless wench who’s story she is telling.
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