A womans. Poem

[j.sabourn]

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 make his coffee right , he didn’t like my stew,
I didn’t fold his pants the way his mother used to do,
I ponder for an answer, I was looking for a clue,
Then I turned around and smacked the sh.. out of him, like his mother used to do !
JS

[Des Taff Jenkins]

HI John
I like it, I like it.
I started reading when I was about four or five, I used to hear nothing as I read, in the end my Mother who was crippled used to put a row of teaspoons near her chair and throw then at me when she wanted my attention, I'm sure some of the lumps on my head are from her spoons.
Des

[happy daze john in oz]

Ah Des, sad tales indeed.
We had a grandpa who played the spoons, problem was he only knew one tune.