She loved her kids
She really did
She tried to not be an iffy parent
But who was she kidding
She could kid no one!
Even the kids themselves
Would say “are you kidding me mum?”
Cos they’d been Schooled
At Posh School
One of the Fancy Shmancy private ones
The ones that require lots of funds
Which isn’t fun
So they knew mum was iffy
But since they thought her spiffy
They thought —
If she’s iffy then as long as she’s also spiffy
Then it’s all taffy, which means toffee.
She said unto them,
Go Forth and Be Iffy and Spiffy Too, My Child.
And they did unto as Mother,
Or as they like to call her Smother,
Had instructed. Or ordered.
Lest she smother them
Whilst they slumber in their beds at night.
Thus did the world’s supply of toffee multiply
Which they had with their morning coffee,
Because you should always have toffee
With your coffee
To give the spiffiness a kickstart
Each and every day,
Before making your way, in The World.
wannabepoet : zen perspectives 