Just For Debbie
My older sister Debbie is a school dinner lady. How she cooks for two hundred kids each day as well as taking care of her own family, is beyond me. Her children Emma, and Tim are both in their mid twenties, yet seem to be as helpless as new-born babies when it comes to helping out round the house. She does the lot! Poor Debbie. This is my tribute to her, in the hope that I can help to make her feel a bit better about her life. Actually, she loves it - or so she tells me!!! COME ON KIDS, HELP MUM OUT A BIT, BY ORDERS OF AUNTY MANDY, (AMANDA) AND UNCLE STEVE!!! Do you know someone who is worn to a frazzle, and not getting any thanks for all they do for you? Why not have me write them a thank-you poem on your behalf. I can help you say what you always wanted to say, but didn’t know how too.
A Poem Just For
Debbie, A Poor, Hard Working, Unappreciated Mum.
By Amanda Jay Clark.
A woman’s work is
never done,
And it gets me in a tizzy.
The never-ending cycle of housework,
Leaves me weak, and dizzy.
It’s hard work waking Phill up,
As he snores like a hog in bed.
But when it comes to rousing the children,
Well! it would be easier to wake the dead.
After I’ve made them all breakfast,
I have the beds to make.
Can someone hear my frustrated screams,
Please, for heavens sake.
Next, there is the dusting,
And the Hoover to be pushed round.
The toilet to be scrubbed out,
And the general tidying around.
The kitchen needs disinfecting,
And the plates cleared from the sink.
I let the dog out into the garden,
So his poo don’t make the house stink.
By 8, I’m worn to a frazzle,
But it’s still the time I like best,
Because I get to leave the house,
And go to work for a rest.
I feed two-hundred children,
So that each one has a full belly.
Then, it’s home to start all over again,
While they slob out in front of the telly.
As they watch Eastenders,
With their feet up by the fire,
I slave and wait on them hand and foot,
They expect me never to tire.
After the dirty dinner dishes,
Have been cleaned and all put away,
The family go out for the evening,
While I cope with the worse time of day.
It’s the time I have to do laundry,
First washing, then hang out to dry,
And as I stand by a huge pile of ironing,
It’s hard for me not to cry.
But, all of these chores are a doddle,
When compared to the shopping I do.
I cram that much food in my trolley,
It’s like feeding the lions at the zoo.
With a 10lb roast, and a chicken,
Plus spuds and marrowfat peas,
It’s no wonder that I go ballistic,
Aiming my trolley at old ladies knees.
There’s a crazy mad rush for the burgers,
And we fight like dogs over ham,
A lady once gave me concussion,
As we fought for the same leg of lamb!
Five bags of flour for baking,
And eggs for a Quiche Lorraine,
Then three hours wait at the checkout,
It’s enough to drive me insane.
Then, before I’ve unloaded the bags,
The fridge is empty once more,
As the family descend like vultures,
As for me, it’s back to the store.
I sound like I’m complaining,
But I say without too big a peeve,
My life could be worse, and much harder,
Thank God I’m not Mandy or Steve!
A Poem Just For Debbie, is protected by copyright, and remains the property of the author, Amanda Jay Clark.