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He Didn’t Like My Pudding


He didn’t like my pudding,
     and he didn’t like my cake.

My biscuits were too hard,
     not like his mother used to make.

I didn’t perk the coffee,
     and I didn’t make the stew,

I didn’t mend his socks
     like his mother used to do.

As I pondered for an answer,
     I was looking for a clue.

So I turned and boxed his ears,
     like his mother used to do.
 

sent in by Myra, February 2007
author unknown

 

 

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