The Telephone

The telephone, the telephone,
That ringing, ringing, constant drone.
From far and near, they all call here.
I really wish they wouldn't dear.

For I do dread to answer back
Through plastic tubes and relay stack.
‘Though wonder of the modern age,
At times it does my soul enrage.

When in a tranquil state of mind,
It's shrill, unnerving sound does wind
And I as servant do attend.
My faithfulness I solemn rend.

For only worse than this dread state,
Is silence, when a call I wait.