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It’s the wife; we’ve not spoken for ages
For a while now she’s not moved her lips
But her diet it seems to be working
You can tell by the size of her hips
Ask, if you can, what’s upset her
Was it something I did or forgot?
She sits there and stares at the ceiling
And she hasn’t been eating a lot
See if she wants to go shopping
The food I’ve been eating is junk
Tell her she needs a good shower
She’s beginning to smell like a skunk
Find out where all my clean socks are
I haven’t changed these for a while
Try if you can to get answers
And for gods’ sake please get her to smile
Let her know that we’ve got no clean dishes
And the dogs made a mess of our bed
What do you mean you can’t wake her
You’re not telling me that she’s dead
Who’s going to cook me my dinners
Who’s going to clean for me now
I’m sure that she’s done this on purpose
The nasty vindictive old cow

Editing stage: 


Brilliant, laughed from start to finish. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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