A mother’s work is never done
At least, so wise men say.
Change the diaper, wash the clothes,
Wipe the arse and then the nose -
There’s nary time to play.
But feeding is an easy job
For Mommies on the run.
Just grab ahold of Little Bit
And clamp him right upon your tit -
It’s pleasant and it’s fun!
No matter that he’s turned eighteen
And people think you’re weird.
For mother’s milk is very dense
In many kinds of nutrients
To help him grow his beard.
[Inspired by Mother’s Day - and, at least in part, by this. And this. Now it’s back to you, Mister Neanderpundit!]