Poor Old, Mr. Malone,
He almost always dines alone.
As a matter of fact, and it's well known,
That, He munches his food, with a groan. Now, take a look, at his busy son,
He quickly stacks, all his food on a bun,
And then, tries to eat it, on the run.
To him, Eating is no fun. And what about, his lovely wife,
Who likes all the finer, things in life?
She finds that eating, is a strife,
Because, She tries eating everything, with a knife. Yet, I can't think, of anything worse,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem