Give Me a Break
Posted: Tue Feb 15, 2011 8:25 pm
Not worthy of the 'Members' section, so I thought I'd post it here
Now no looking too closley! (It is written in zigzag metre)
This is what is called 'doing a Bernard'. That is.. write, have a bit of a look over, then post and be damned.
So read it as fast as you can.. have a laugh, (I hope).. and pretend it wasn't me what writ it.
Give me a break
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 02/11
Each day when I wake I give myself a shake
and before I can get out of bed
I’m thinking of things I must do and it brings
a slight rush of blood to my head.
The duties I see as belonging to me
if I got them all done I would faint.
I have talents I know and I put them on show
I do boast... well, you know I’m no saint.
Now all my kids drive and they seem to contrive
a reason to drop in each day.
They expect me to be drinking gallons of tea,
whiling hours and hours away.
So it’s “Mum can you please sew a button on these.
and I need them. How long will it take?”
Now I’ve buttons to sew and some rubbish to throw,
I am mortal; just give me a break.
There’s dolls clothes to make and a big birthday cake
and all to be done before noon.
The floor needs a wash and there’s spiders to squash
‘cause the grandkids are coming round soon.
Hang the wet clothes to dry, bake a large apple pie.
Well my dearest he loves his dessert.
I have curtains to hang. When the side gate goes bang
it’s me who will sound the alert.
I see roses to prune and, with gloves on, in June
I’ll be sweeping the last of the leaves.
If I dust as I sweep, in my dreams, when I sleep,
without rags, well I could use my sleeves.
Give my boots a good shine, get the clothes from the line
and then fold them and put them away,
I do need some lunch, but I’ve numbers to crunch
or the bank will have something to say.
Now the nights drawing near but I’m sorry I fear
that I still will not get any rest.
There’s a meal to cook and I’m trying to look
for a way I can feather our nest.
It’s a quarter to ten, draw a deep breath, and then
look for wool and a pattern to make.
Cause the winter is near, Knitting slippers I fear
once more reason I can’t take a break.
They’re all counting on me, and I love it you see
and they don’t mind if I take the onus.
When I wake up at five, I know I’m still alive.
and at my age each day is a bonus.
I think if I stop then the penny will drop
so I’ll just keep on earning my crust.
See I’m long past the time that you would call my prime
If I stop I’m afraid I might rust.
So don’t think about me, as I rise from my knee
after waxing and shining the floor.
I would not change a jot, I’m enjoying my lot
Oh no! There goes the bell for the door.
There I’ve finished my list, this will go down in his
tory. You know I’m a bit of a fake.
Don’t need your permission to stop this edition
when the topic is “give me a break”.
Now no looking too closley! (It is written in zigzag metre)
This is what is called 'doing a Bernard'. That is.. write, have a bit of a look over, then post and be damned.
So read it as fast as you can.. have a laugh, (I hope).. and pretend it wasn't me what writ it.
Give me a break
© Zondrae King (Corrimal) 02/11
Each day when I wake I give myself a shake
and before I can get out of bed
I’m thinking of things I must do and it brings
a slight rush of blood to my head.
The duties I see as belonging to me
if I got them all done I would faint.
I have talents I know and I put them on show
I do boast... well, you know I’m no saint.
Now all my kids drive and they seem to contrive
a reason to drop in each day.
They expect me to be drinking gallons of tea,
whiling hours and hours away.
So it’s “Mum can you please sew a button on these.
and I need them. How long will it take?”
Now I’ve buttons to sew and some rubbish to throw,
I am mortal; just give me a break.
There’s dolls clothes to make and a big birthday cake
and all to be done before noon.
The floor needs a wash and there’s spiders to squash
‘cause the grandkids are coming round soon.
Hang the wet clothes to dry, bake a large apple pie.
Well my dearest he loves his dessert.
I have curtains to hang. When the side gate goes bang
it’s me who will sound the alert.
I see roses to prune and, with gloves on, in June
I’ll be sweeping the last of the leaves.
If I dust as I sweep, in my dreams, when I sleep,
without rags, well I could use my sleeves.
Give my boots a good shine, get the clothes from the line
and then fold them and put them away,
I do need some lunch, but I’ve numbers to crunch
or the bank will have something to say.
Now the nights drawing near but I’m sorry I fear
that I still will not get any rest.
There’s a meal to cook and I’m trying to look
for a way I can feather our nest.
It’s a quarter to ten, draw a deep breath, and then
look for wool and a pattern to make.
Cause the winter is near, Knitting slippers I fear
once more reason I can’t take a break.
They’re all counting on me, and I love it you see
and they don’t mind if I take the onus.
When I wake up at five, I know I’m still alive.
and at my age each day is a bonus.
I think if I stop then the penny will drop
so I’ll just keep on earning my crust.
See I’m long past the time that you would call my prime
If I stop I’m afraid I might rust.
So don’t think about me, as I rise from my knee
after waxing and shining the floor.
I would not change a jot, I’m enjoying my lot
Oh no! There goes the bell for the door.
There I’ve finished my list, this will go down in his
tory. You know I’m a bit of a fake.
Don’t need your permission to stop this edition
when the topic is “give me a break”.
I wish I was superwoman but I am well aware I am not. 