Spare the Rod...

As a child in days gone by Mother’s rod was swift but sure Many a weal as time went by Scarred my skin an ugly blue. Nagging was the way of life My mother used to lay the rule Not a day did I cry Child abuse, nor reported it at school. Father’s hands lay thick and strong A whopping blow upon my hide On the day I failed at sums That slap brought answers quick to mind. Even when I pouted and sulked Cups or shoes came flying high Never ever missed the target That mother’s aim intended to strike. No words were kind When I did wrong No sparing the rod to spoil the child Discipline the child was a daily song. Today the cry is child abuse For which society has no use Put the child in a foster home To grow up to be another deviant one. Is it wise to spare the rod? Or better yet to talk with the child? Still mother’s way did well for me To talk and live like a Jesus child.