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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