The consequences of treating delicate goods without delicacy.
In the kitchen all may shatter:
Crystal plates and china platter,
Silver wares as thin as foil,
Mugs that melt before they boil.
Sturdy goods are not in sight
For visually they’re such a blight
That elegance must protest strong
If any tough things come along.
And thus we move with careful grace
And bump no item from its place
Lest some stray elbow might destroy
Some costly fork or antique toy
That our dear host has placed to care
To complement the don’t-sit chair.
“’Tis worse than prison” queaths some bard
And in rebellion sits down hard,
destroying some chair with his rear.
“I do refuse to move with fear!”
he adds with vigor, gesturing
to pierce a wall with his school ring.
“I loathe this dainty fragile junk!
To me, it smells worse than a skunk!
I smash it!” (suiting deed to word)
“It’d rather use a wooden board
Than knives like these. They snap like twigs
When used to skewer roasted pigs!”
He seemed just started when he swung
His shoe out where a mirror hung
And as it broke a sword-like shard
Cut short the life of this crude bard.
Alas! such mess, but mind the moral:
It does not pay with grace to quarrel.
Tread soft where dainty things are hung
Lest one last dirge for you be sung.