When it’s winter, dark and cold, 
     And the clock hand points to eight,
Mummy’s voice comes through the door: 
     'You must get up, it's late!'

 

When it's summer, nice and light, 
     I’m keen to leave my bed.
'Go back to sleep.  It’s early yet,'
     Are words that I hear said.

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So why are parents difficult? 
      I've thought of that before.
You want to sleep, they say it's late. 
     You want to rise, they snore!

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On Christmas morn I want to rise, 
     My presents to explore,
But if they hear me moving, 
     They'll be angry.  It's a bore!

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Another day, when I am tired 
     And want to settle down,
It’s: 'Hurry, get your coat on now.  
     We're going into town.'

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When I am fast then they are slow, 
     And then the other way.
It's: 'Please be quiet! Stop that noise!' 
     Or: 'Go on out and play.'

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There are some days I really try 
     And go outside to play - BUT
'Come inside, say cheerio.
     See you another day.'

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The meal they've cooked, I do not want 
     And really cannot eat - - - - BUT
'You won't get down before it's gone!  
     You’ll sit there on your seat.'

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Another time I'm hungry, 
     Eat up and ask for more - - - -  BUT
'You cannot have more ice-cream.
      It will make your tummy sore!'

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You just can't win with grown-ups, 
     No matter how you try,
But battle on and don't give up
     Or run away and cry.

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Copyright on all my poems 

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