" Little Tommy Tucker"Hush little Tommy stop singing that song
Your ma and pa ate all the grub
No need to halla no need to fret
There ain't no butter there ain't no bread.
There ain't no sugar there ain't no plum
There ain't no supper the cupboard bare
No pudding, pie, or Johnny bake.
No curds and rays or apple cake
So hush little Tommy just go to bed
Your Ma and Pa both left you for dead.
Your Ma, she left you a little meat.
But she ate the fat, your Pa ate the lean
Then he licked the plate and the platter clean
Your Ma took the knife, the fork, the spoon
And threw them all at her silly groom.
Cause he knocked her up on her honey moon.
Your father Jack he got so distraught
He threw the fiddle at the cat
Then he took the stick and beat up the dog.
And chased the brown cow all over town.
Your ma called the corps and told on him.
Then packed her suitcase and left for good.
So your mama Jill is missing still.
Your Pa feels down he's got a broken will.
Cause the corpse chase him
Up and down the hill.
So this ain't no supper no need to sing.
Come, let me tuck you into bed
There ain't no more song in your little head.
Poetry by Kulanga
Read 479 times
Written on 2007-03-30 at 02:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email