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GOOD DAY

When entering the office, or when morning-after shy,
           when shuffling to the coffee on the hob,
there are umpteen ways of saying, and ten others which imply,
           Good morning to your dearest or the mob.
You may not wish to use them all but my advice is know,
           for life is long and there’s no way to tell
if you’ll need the coochy-cooer, the shoot-the-breeze, the crow,
           or the grunt that plainly signals Go to hell!

Good morning is a marker which you lay down for the day
           and indicates your status or your mood.
It is a little speech act and there are rules of play
           misuse of which reveals ineptitude.
The boor, the sycophant, the sweetie and the prig,
           the rajah, termagant and odalisque,
the wannabe, the toady, the wise guy and the sprig
           use all the nuances from cool to brisk.

For it’s a common knowledge, we can tell it like a scent,
           this salutation comes with what we are.
It is not dangerous, nor is it innocent,
           but a shrewd and grooming social formula.
I offer this revision in case one day like me
           you offend by an omission—or in bed
need precedent in sickness, when a doctor cries Howdy!,
           to tell him to shove off and boil his head.

Agh, God!, What gives? & Wakie!—Oy vay! & Why, hello!—
           Bonjour!, Buon giorno!, Morgen!, and all those:
the tone is everything—she’s happy, he’s gung-ho:
           it may amuse us, or it may get up our nose.
This is the thing of it—here’s, as they say, the rub:
           it’s not the ritual greeting mouthed by rote,
the Hi, man! How ya doin?, but the vicious, verbal club
           from Bighead or Miss Drool which gets my goat.

Writing a diatribe, pitching the old grenade,
           that’s what I’m at here (though I don’t mean you—
unless you are a pillock and you like to be obeyed—
           I always give approval where it’s due).
A nice G’day! or Morning! is all it takes to make me shine.
           I like it when the shop girl gives me Hi!
It’s grand when I’m anointed and told the day is fine,
           it makes me feel I’m really quite a guy.

To hell then with the sneer, and worse the frigid silence,
           aroint the arrant shout and conference cough!
Devil take the in-group nod and the girl or boy alliance
           which leaves a mum or colleague in the rough.
And damn the waiter waiting, the porter made of wood,
           the cult which welcomes only its own view.
Good morning! is for all and it means the speaker’s good.
           A handy, honest phrase. So, How d’you do?

Alan Marshfield

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