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A womans poem


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He didnt like the casserole

and he didnt like my cake

My biscuits were too hard

Not like his mother used to make

I didnt perk the coffee right

he didnt like the stew

I didnt mend his socks

The way his mother used to do.

I pondered for an answer

I was looking for a clue

then i turned around and smacked him

like his mother used to do

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