There is a funny little phrase,
She hears it every day;
it seems to repeat and enforce itself
In the most annoying way.
It may be in response
To a reasonable request,
That doesn’t ask very much
And doesn’t deserve protest.
But it’s given lots of practice,
And I perform it with aplomb;
Whenever she wants me to do something,
The answer is, “But, Mom!”
“My name is not ‘But, Mom!’”, she says,
but she looks like one to me;
there are many "But, Mom!" like features
she's too deluded to see.
“Clean off your desk, wipe off that smirk”
We all know what’s going to come;
“Snap to attention, get off your butt,”
“BUT MOM! BUT MOM! BUT MOM!”
I still end up doing what she says,
When I know I should be shirking;
I can't stop saying, "But, Mom!" to her,
I even say it while I’m working.
It seems to echo down the halls,
Until her ears are numb;
And when we go to sleep at night,
We’re both dreaming of “But, Mom!”
She get’s tired of being such a nag,
while I get tired of resisting;
both of our peculiar habits
Continue their persisting.
“Do this, do that, do what I say”,
Even though our feet are dragging,
I continue to say my line,
And she continues nagging.
There is a funny little phrase,
She hears it every day;
it seems to repeat and enforce itself
In the most annoying way.
“Clean off your desk, wipe off that smirk”
We all know what’s going to come;
“Snap to attention, get off your butt,”
“BUT MOM! BUT MOM! BUT MOM!” |