I don't know if you're still looking after two years! It's a great poem.
From a 1913 US magazine -- unattributed:
Tea in the Garden
"Tho' we're fond of fresh air, it occasioned despair
When on Sunday we heard mother say,
"With the roses in bloom, who would stay in a room?
We'll have tea in the garden to-day."
So under the trees, in an easterly breeze,
We gathered in attitude strange;
There were wasps in the jam and flies
on the ham,
But we said, "What a beautiful change!"
Then we had a great fright—Mabel choked and turned white,
And, in tones that were meant to be gay,
Said, "It's nothing! You see, I was drinking my tea,
And an earwig went down the wrong way!''
There's a certain deck-chair, which is out of repair,
In which father reclined at his ease,
While he balanced in state a knife and a plate
And a cup of hot tea on his knees.
Soon we heard a sharp crack, and poor father fell back,
And got folded up in the chair.
Tea streamed from his head; oh, the things that he said
As he picked bits of cake from his hair!
To the charming appeal of the al fresco meal
Now our hearts we invariably harden:
You may: take it from me that in future our tea
Will not be consumed in the garden."