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 perk 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.
So I turned around and smacked him one Like his mother used to do.
I love a good poem, don't you?
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