Mother Superior
Contributed by
jonteD
on
Saturday, 27th December 2003 @ 02:37:37 PM in AEST
Topic:
HumorPoetry
|
Dear family, just a note to let you all know
I've decided to pack my things and go.
Have run away with the fat, bald guy next door,
Because of the things in this house I deplore.
You treat me bad from dawn to dusk,
From "give me dinner" to "feed me rusk".
Mother, wife, chauffeur, cleaner, cook,
Yet if I moan back comes a dirty look.
The armchair soft always yours not mine,
Little boys toys and the vintage wine,
Off you all go, troop out the door,
My pleasure is to wash the kitchen floor.
Of course sometimes I scream, shout and cry
Face goes angry red, I want to die.
At least my problem is only once a month
Whilst after every ballgame you get the hump..
Try so hard to be perfect for you damn lot,
What thanks I get, stupid comments, no love got
So if you think I'm so frigid in your bed
Why not put Catherine Zeta Jones there instead?
I'm only kidding, had you fooled,
To me, a wife and Mother, you are my jewels,
The fat bald guy nest door is the vicar,
Taken him to the store to stock up his liquor.
Close your mouths please, stop them gaping,
Despite all my endless giving, your ceaseless taking,
I'll always be yours, forever and ever,
Love, Mother, superior!
Copyright ©
jonteD
... [
2003-12-27 14:37:37] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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