My Cup Of Tea

THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.

I live in merry old England and I drink a whole lot of tea.

I drink so much that each day I pass five gallons of pee.

My wife poured a boiling cup of tea over my head.

Then she crammed the cup where the sun doesn't shine and my face turned red.

She's on the warpath, did I do something that pissed her?

I wonder if she's found out that I'm sleeping with her sister.

She's gathering her things and she's getting packed.

She's leaving and I don't think that she's coming back.
She can leave if she wants but one thing really does worry me.

She did all of the cooking and I don't know how to make tea.