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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required SWEET SUNDAY MAYHEM Curtains remain closed; for some, family kitchens are busy But, if Dad is making the lunch be prepared for it to be iffy The gravy is always the lumpy; with the vegetables all hard The way our Dad cooks just expect the roast to be marred Some kids just like to lie in bed, whilst others watch the TV No one is getting out; Dad, has hidden the front door keys There is just no hope until the weeks homework is all done No use in pulling faces, Dads, are not always, made for fun No mention of Mother yet, she is soaking away in the bath She is more than determined to make “this is my time" last But; to how this is achieved with kids knocking on the door With an Oi from Dad, quit your banging, try the other floor Nothing better than a Sunday, Gran parents to soon arrive Gran has knitted us all red woolly scarfs, O' what a surprise Grand Dad; is in the kitchen with Dad, it is man to man talk The dog is whining at the door, wants out for his daily walk There is nothing better, than a Sunday lunch with your folk Mind; Mother is missing, she is still away enjoying that soak Gran; is pulling faces, the dry meat, pulling at her dentures What is Gran trying to say, I am sure it should be censored The dog has totally given up, it has piddled at the back door As to get away from the dry beef, Gran is mopping the floor At last all the dishes are in the sink and reserved for Mother Who on coming down the stairs; looks, and then, shudders Doors opened the kids at last are away out to play, hooray The house; is looking like a scene out of the film doomsday The dog; under the table, makes the most of dropped food His stomach for such burnt offerings has the right aptitude Dad, and Gran Dad; are away down the garden, in the shed What they both get up to, it's never ever allowed to be said Gran, takes the load washing all up the burnt pots and pans Mother is tucking in reluctantly, Gran here truly understands The kids are all back in for 7 pm, with their rota for the bath Dirty clothes in basket, any mess, they will feel Mom's wrath The kids school uniforms are all ironed, and neatly arranged With that the kids are in bed, their ardour for fun contained Another Sunday over; the start to a brand new week ahead As to make the most of it, the tired parents leg it up to bed Indiana Shaw . . . ; )
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