Won´t make his bed,
his voice clogs with indignation.
Feels saying thankyou is an exaggeration.
Abhorrence son.
Doesn´t like to do his chores.
Looking after stuff´s a bore.
Fakes a whinge that he feels sore.
So he doesn´t have to go to the store.
He´s perfected the art of how to complain.
He whines if he´s hit by a drop of rain.
Oh how I remember my father´s cane.
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