"Mind Your Own Business" - Bahamas AI art
©A. Derek Catalano
Mind Your Own Business
Oh, let me share a little tale,
Of those who poke and pry and fail,
Who cannot leave alone or see,
That their nosy ways just bother me.
They ask me why I’m not yet wed,
Or why I wear this hat of red,
Or why I smile when it rains or shines,
Or if I like beer or wine.
"Why do you eat that strange dark stew?"
"Did you paint your walls a darker blue?"
"Do you prefer soda or juice?"
"Did you hear that Henry's on the loose?"
They’ll whisper close, they’ll nudge your sleeve,
Their questions like cobwebs they weave.
"Are you still working at that job?"
Or “How’s your uncle’s cousin, Bob?”
They’ll peek and peer, and dig so deep,
And what they find out, they'll spread not keep.
I wonder what compels their mind
To dwell on lives, seperated or intertwined.
One neighbor asks with eyes so wide,
"Why don’t you have a better ride?"
I answer swift with biting wit:
"Because I like this rusty bit."
Then there’s Aunt Sarah who’ll just insist,
My choice of “work” should be dismissed.
And Mother’s friend from long ago,
Asking why I like wigs, instead of hair to grow.
And who can forget the office spy?
With eagle eyes and nose held high.
They watch the fridge, they mark the dates—
They know who ate the doughnuts and who came in late.
But I’ve come up with cunning schemes,
To dodge their prying, scathing themes:
The mysterious look, the slow, sly grin,
Leave them perplexed—can’t find a way in!
So here’s my plea, to young and old,
The timid, the brazen, the shy, the bold:
If you’re wondering how my garden grows,
Or why I’ve chosen these crooked rows,
Or if I’m planning to dye my hair,
Or if my cat’s got fleas to spare—
I’ll tell you once, I’ll tell you twice,
Your friendly advice, well… it’s suffice’.
Life’s a strange, mixed-up carousel,
With ups and downs and tales to tell.
But some things are best left unseen,
Like why my curtains are rarely clean.
So worry not for what’s in my cup,
Or if I’m planning to give it up.
And if you’re still curious about my tone,
I’ll leave you with these words alone:
Mind your business, let me be,
And I’ll let you keep drinking that celery tea.
I’ll spare you from judging, I’ll spare you from shame—
And we’ll live quite happily all the same.
Oh, let me share a little tale,
Of those who poke and pry and fail,
Who cannot leave alone or see,
That their nosy ways just bother me.
They ask me why I’m not yet wed,
Or why I wear this hat of red,
Or why I smile when it rains or shines,
Or if I like beer or wine.
"Why do you eat that strange dark stew?"
"Did you paint your walls a darker blue?"
"Do you prefer soda or juice?"
"Did you hear that Henry's on the loose?"
They’ll whisper close, they’ll nudge your sleeve,
Their questions like cobwebs they weave.
"Are you still working at that job?"
Or “How’s your uncle’s cousin, Bob?”
They’ll peek and peer, and dig so deep,
And what they find out, they'll spread not keep.
I wonder what compels their mind
To dwell on lives, seperated or intertwined.
One neighbor asks with eyes so wide,
"Why don’t you have a better ride?"
I answer swift with biting wit:
"Because I like this rusty bit."
Then there’s Aunt Sarah who’ll just insist,
My choice of “work” should be dismissed.
And Mother’s friend from long ago,
Asking why I like wigs, instead of hair to grow.
And who can forget the office spy?
With eagle eyes and nose held high.
They watch the fridge, they mark the dates—
They know who ate the doughnuts and who came in late.
But I’ve come up with cunning schemes,
To dodge their prying, scathing themes:
The mysterious look, the slow, sly grin,
Leave them perplexed—can’t find a way in!
So here’s my plea, to young and old,
The timid, the brazen, the shy, the bold:
If you’re wondering how my garden grows,
Or why I’ve chosen these crooked rows,
Or if I’m planning to dye my hair,
Or if my cat’s got fleas to spare—
I’ll tell you once, I’ll tell you twice,
Your friendly advice, well… it’s suffice’.
Life’s a strange, mixed-up carousel,
With ups and downs and tales to tell.
But some things are best left unseen,
Like why my curtains are rarely clean.
So worry not for what’s in my cup,
Or if I’m planning to give it up.
And if you’re still curious about my tone,
I’ll leave you with these words alone:
Mind your business, let me be,
And I’ll let you keep drinking that celery tea.
I’ll spare you from judging, I’ll spare you from shame—
And we’ll live quite happily all the same.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT