She daily leaves her own home
Comes with son in luxury car
Just before lunch scents roam
She's like bee searches nectar
As fierce enemy me she treats
Yet I'm tender and tolerant
She's ingrate for my past feats
Denies what I did and do grant
She's stingy loves money more
Though her income is too loose
No gift she brings behind door
But takes, for else not of use
How generous when she's guest
How skimpy in her domicile
So she loses fellows respect
She must use her brain awhile.
What for money up your head
It put dignity into slime
Spend it buy enough bread
Before funeral when bells chime.
Thursday 16 October 2014
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