and he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuit were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.
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 mother shoe
Then I smiled as I saw light
One thing I could definitly do
I turned around
And slapped him tight...
Like his mother used to !!!
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