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No, THIS be the verse

They fuck you up, your sons and daughters
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill themselves with faults you've never heard of
And add insomnia, just for you.

They won't say please or wait their turn
Or stoop to wear their hats or coats
They make you yell until you get heartburn
But still they're at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to woman.
Those kids will wring your last drop of health.
Get them out of the house as early as you can
And insist they have kids themself.

By Maxabella

With respect to Mr Larkin.

What would you add in your flipped-around version of Larkin's poem?


Fiona said...

Hhmmm, bad day perhaps?

Brenda @ Mira Narnie said...

Oh B - hang in there x

therhythmmethod said...

Do we have a new swearing policy here? Just askin'.
Love your verse. Word to yo mama.

Angels have Red Hair said...

Ha...I like your version better :)

Mandy Ferry said...

hell yeah to that.

Catherine said...

Oh no I hear you Bron. Take care. xx

Mrs BC said...

I feel ya. I really, really do.

Fiona said...

Hang in there love - you will come out the other side of this and it will be ok.

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Thank you for talking to me.x