MY Mother had this mean trick.
BED WITH NOTHING TO EAT!
Home from school, hungry, tired, dirty.
BED WITH NOTHING TO EAT!
She would then lay in wait for my Father.
BED WITH NOTHING TO EAT!
Nag him into giving me a GOOD hiding, for one reason or another!
BED WITH NOTHING TO EAT!
I would get the GOOD hiding.
But NOTHING TO EAT! ! ! ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem