Singing the Family Song
Simon says, "Slow down, you're movin' too fast"
But those who drag their feet come last
So ease up on that pedal, lad
We've time to kill, let's go see Dad
But Dad was living with a whore
They lay together, on the floor
And so we exited posthaste
We did not linger for a taste
And yet I oft will recollect
When I'm maudlin or completely wrecked
Where went my youth? Those heady days
Our family seen through alcoholic haze
No-one here appreciates
How much our Mother's quiche we hates
"Tho she did charge less than that whore of Dad's
Her crust was laced with nails and brads
| Contributors: | W, Nym, Francine, Karen, Kansas Sam. |
| Poem finished: | 18th July 2003. |