Saturday, August 11, 2007

Fatherly Love

My daughter, who is twelve years old
Went down on bended knees.
“Oh, can I do the washing up?
Oh, Daddy, Daddy, please!
I don’t want to watch the telly,
I don’t want to go and play.
You sit down and rest yourself,
I’ll do your jobs today.

The young lad, who is nearly ten
Said, “Go and rest yourself!
I’ll nip upstairs and make the beds
And then I’ll dry the delph.
I’ll bring you in a cup of tea
And biscuits, if there’s any.
Don’t look so suspicious,
This will not cost you a penny.”

The baby of the family,
Who’s only just turned eight,
Said, “Please don’t sweep the kitchen floor,
Although it’s in a state.
I’ll do it in a minute when
The other two are through.
Go inside, put up your feet,
We’ll do it all for you.”

I gathered them around me and
I felt their heads for bumps,
But, though I tried, I could not find
The slightest trace of lumps.
I asked them if they felt okay
And each one answered yes.
What on earth could be the cause
Of so much helpfulness?

I went into the sitting room,
My wife was in there knitting.
I flopped onto the sofa just
Beside where she was sitting.
“What’s the story?” I enquired,
“It isn’t Fathers’ Day,
And everybody knows my birthday’s
Seven months away.”

“Why must you look a gift horse
In the mouth?” my wife replied.
“It’s time they did the washing up
And plenty more beside.
You know you won a tenner on
The Lottery last night?
I told them it was half a mill,
Now amn’t I a shyte?”

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