Then choose one

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 unsense 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.