It all began
W'Hey Back When,
A first-born chyle's
Fast obsession:
Civil War R'en-Act
A-Ment,
Causes us
Mild Puzzlement.
And Only Son,
Aloof but shrill,
Refuses her demand
He drill
With all the boys
In regiments,
Camping, chawin',
In settlements.
She, whose costumed self
Implores.
He whose surf image
Abhores,
And only ever
A'y ignores
Her.
Fin'ly he
Laments to prep
A heavy round
Accoutrement:
Melt the wax and
Pour on wood,
Seal a basin
Tight and good,
That water hold
And lye soap washes
Loads of laundry
'Fore she tosses
Pant and vest and
hoopish dress
over clothesline,
Dried, then pressed.
So, why the mess??
Melting wax loads (not unpleasant),
Wasn't taught in Scout Troop prepness;
Neither was the concept,
"DANGER:
Iffit Can Spill,
It Will,
Stranger!"
SO,
Since it did,
And not just outside,
But on a favorite carpet/
Drape-wide.
HENCE,
Was sure this child of mine
Would honor those
whose property's
Slimed.
Not this time,
Nor any other,
But for oft repeated
BUGGERs.
And so, I wait. And too, I
Ponder,
Whose child is this
Who knows no honor?
((HEY! Wax Boy!
You promised to
replace the rug, but
if you want,
you can clean the window and drape, too.))
 |
| GET MEG to HELP YOU. |
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