Of Food and Jail
September, and school had begun;
They boarded the school bus once more.
Joanne had just entered grade two;
Brother, Gene, was in grade four.
So little sister, Connie,
And Russell, who was three,
Would spend the day with Mommy
Keeping busy, as you’ll see.
Pet names had been given, Adorable
And Deplorable, take your pick.
What one didn’t think of the other would
Come up with; it was quick.
Well, on this sunny autumn day,
They munched potato chips,
As Mom drove to the county seat,
The object of the trip.
As we pulled up by the courthouse,
Which held the jail as well,
The potato chip bag got knocked out
As quickly as I can tell.
Our dear little preschoolers
To obey the law had been taught.
They sized up the situation
And feared Mommy would be caught.
“Mommy might have to go to jail;
Pick the bag up like we should.
We don’t want Mom to go to jail;
Joanne don’t cook too good.”
They’re all grown up and still inclined
To pick up as they should,
But none says of their sister,
“She just don’t cook too good.”
©2010 Carol Morfitt