This is an ode to the gagged Mrs. Butterworth bottle I had in my bedroom back in the eighties.
Mrs. Butterworth why won’t you talk?
And why won’t you move or walk?
I just want to converse
Nothing odd or perverse
You sit here on my table
I am sure that you are able
But you don’t say a word
Need we teach you like a bird
Has the cat got your tongue
Or need it be sung
I know you’re not a mute
You talk to the man in the suit
I’ve seen you on the telly
You know my name is Kelly
So we’re not strangers
And there are no dangers
In talking to me
Why can’t you see
I want someone to talk to
Why can’t it be you
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