Into Tizzy My Mother Went

Into Tizzy My Mother Went I always enjoy shooting the breeze My poems are perfect everyone agrees Write hard and try with all my might Keep others from getting up tight This poem on paper try to squeeze. Outside has been a big freeze Snow is still sticking to tall trees Christmas will be here to our delight And many more ideas had a flight Can you imagine me in high societies. Hysteria was started by the masses And all of them were a bunch of asses Then with each other they did clash After they had talked a lot of trash On all my pancakes put more molasses. (Had to sweeten them up for you to read.) Suppose I should become indignant And be great poet who was hell bent Finally started to understand me Wrote poems for nothing and free Into a big tizzy my mother went. (Who thought I never would amount to anything anyway.)