Why is it that when I wander around
Up and down stairs or on flat ground
That I get told, when family I meet,
To put some shoes upon my feet.
I like to go barefoot around the house
Yet it seems to worry my man, my spouse,
He was brought up to wear warm slippers
That wasn’t the case when we were nippers,
Slippers were not something that I owned
If I wore my socks, my mother moaned.
When I come home the first thing I do
Is bend to undo and take off my shoe,
Necklace, watch and then the earrings
Sit down, relax and get my bearings.
Why does he worry about my bare feet?
I find it comfortable, a cosy treat.
After thirty eight years I won’t bow now,
I get called some sort of soppy cow
My feet are happiest flat, cold and bare
So go on, chastise me if your dare.
No comments:
Post a Comment