a wife's poem
He didn't like the casserole,
And he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't prepare the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Isn't there anything I could do
To match his mothers shoe
Then I smiled as I saw light
One thing I could definitely do
I turned around and slapped the shit out of him...
Like his mother used to!!!!!
Cheers!!
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