I was hoping I might find a sweet poem about mothers hidden away in my poetry archive, given that today is Mother's Day, but alas, it was not to be. I did, however, recently update this banger of a rhyme, inspired by the Madness song 'Baggy Trousers'. It could be considered an homage to the mothers who have to endure such crazy antics as these. Feeling nostalgic?
Younger
Lots of girls and lots of boys,
running, screaming, making noise,
chasing here and tripping there,
eating mud and pulling hair,
splashing puddles, climbing trees,
proudly wearing two grazed knees,
stealing candy from the shop,
playing scotch without the hop,
ringing doorbells, snowball fights,
racing bikes and flying kites,
playing ‘vet’ with your dog Mixer,
your sister comes and Mixer licks her,
catching frogs and butterflies,
seeing castles in the sky,
pavement doodles in the park,
And one last game before it gets dark.
Those were the days I won’t forget,
The days of youth and no regrets.
running, screaming, making noise,
chasing here and tripping there,
eating mud and pulling hair,
splashing puddles, climbing trees,
proudly wearing two grazed knees,
stealing candy from the shop,
playing scotch without the hop,
ringing doorbells, snowball fights,
racing bikes and flying kites,
playing ‘vet’ with your dog Mixer,
your sister comes and Mixer licks her,
catching frogs and butterflies,
seeing castles in the sky,
pavement doodles in the park,
And one last game before it gets dark.
Those were the days I won’t forget,
The days of youth and no regrets.
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