For money comes and money flies
Nations fall and nations rise,
And most things mortal changeth in the lee;
But there's one thing you can count on,
In Windsor, Scarborough or Clapham --
At four o'clock they still bring out the tea.
Plates of cakes and ladyfingers,
Sandwiches whose flavour lingers,
Mounds of mints enough to last a week;
And scones dripping with butter?
No, with cream, the greedy mutter --
A point not to be argued by the meek.
What care we if time and fate
Make our fortune seem too late
Give us wars to fight that are not meant to be?
We will lift our cups on high,
Survey the tea tray with a sigh,
Thank the cozy, rosy world that gave us tea.
~ Linda Hewitt