Here’s a little poem,
About Sunday After Kids.
Forget about those lie-ins,
And start thinking skids.
Try not to remember,
When you slept until gone ten.
Watched what YOU wanted on telly,
Then headed to bed again…
You spent your day relaxing,
Eating chocolate without hiding in the loo.
You could wallow in the bath-tub
And be alone when you went for a poo.
Maybe you just slobbed on the sofa,
Or headed to the pub for dinner.
Now any day you manage a shower,
Is one you consider a winner…
So that was the little reminder,
About how Sundays used to be…
Try not to cry, thinking of days gone by,
Now your life’s all shit, puke and wee.