My mother was a lady of skilful wealth

She used to shop in Harrod’s,right from the shelf

She stole China tea as it’s good for the health

Mother had a most peculiar  sense of self.

She liked to study the stars and moon

So many dark nights were spent in gloom

Yet for her husband it was a boon

As her presence spread a feeling of deepest doom.

She ran away one day  with cunning stealth

Society blamed her sense of self

She’d met a young man whom she called Ralph.

Who gave her many children of whom I’m the twelfth.

So, remember, the moral of my tale is none.

Love the neighbours,then choose one.

He’ll give you  some daughters and a son

Now my verse is almost     …….. gone.