I had this aunt,
Who loved to drink tea,
Not just any old cuppa,
It had to be,
The India Tea.
Porcelain china,
She did say,
Not that one today.
Her guests' use to come,
To sit in wait,
For their best mate.
What was that, you might say,
The India way.
I used to stand in the kitchen,
To listen to the chatter,
The crowd who loved to natter,
Over their nice brew,
From the India crew.
Don't you forget,
To keep the tea warm,
For the nice welcome,
Of the old natter,
For the best chitter chatter.
I use to stand in the kitchen,
With the tea pot,
Listening as they made words' for the day,
Dreaming of the fields',
Where they do plot,
The next crop,
For that old shop,
Where me aunt did pay,
For the best brew,
From the India crew.
I used to stand half the day,
By that old kettle,
Wishing I was free,
Like the kids' who plant that beautiful tea.
