Sunday, April 1, 2007


They moved into a new flat
The father arranged all in tact
And the Mother rearranged it all in fact
To end the war, they declared a pact.

The father put a dining table
With chairs all around, not so stable
Then came the books, litter and the cable
The mother chided: “The room is a stable!”

The children played around, made a mess
Of the new carpet and their dress
“They are like their father, can they do less?”
Says the lady to a neighbour, who couldn’t guess.

The computer brings more worries
The fridge not working, the fruit turn purees
While their bellies burn with spicy curries
Off to school each member hurries.

The father is a teacher in Maths
A wild and fiery temper he has
The mother takes for the seniors, humanity,
And drives them surely to insanity!

Their brats, a troublesome pair,
break things while pretending to repair!
“What to do?” the teachers lament in despair
Their parents sigh and moan but don’t really care.

Both are in 8C sitting in front row
They become restless as the days grow
During the recess the two gave Tom a blow
His nose has bloated, giving a red glow!

To complains the parents have gone deaf
While their neighbours have grown rough
At home they put chill dust on powder puff
After wash, their Mum went mad putting that stuff!

The manager after six long months complained
He chanted: the couple can’t be retained
As peace and order were constrained
And many damages the building had sustained!

They soon moved out of the flat in haste
From unforgettable past, past the rusted gate
They blame it on society and fate
“We didn’t do anything,” they simply state!

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