boy's beware. . .

He didn't like the curry
And he didn't like my cake
He said my biscuits were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.

I didn't prepare the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.

I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Isn't there anything I could do?
To match his mothers shoe

Then I smiled as I saw light
One thing I could definitely do
I turned around and slapped him tight...
Like his mother used to ! ! !