My daughter at last has got married.
She dillied about with her choice.
When I tried to make tactful suggestions
she instantly silenced my voice.
I venture to say they are happy;
she’s staying the marital course.
But I wouldn’t have bet on this chappie –
I viewed him as quite a dark horse.
He doesn’t play Santa at Christmas.
His patience is shockingly thin.
But then he produces a bear-hug
and a quite irresistible grin.
So what can I do? I’m demoted.
I’m sorry to say that he’s won . . .
And although I’m a trifle disgruntled,
I admit that sometimes he is fun.
And the thing of it is, there is nothing,
not one single word I can say,
so I stoutly admit I’m defeated –
and go on my own merry way.
I have been an exemplary mother,
both firm and indulgent, you see.
So if anyone wants to inquire
it’s all copacetic with me.
And yet I’m so fond of my daughters
“objective” might not be my stance.
Our civilization’s in trouble
if daughters aren’t wearing the pants.
BUT – my daughter is having a baby!
At last I’ll be useful again –
at least if the father sees reason.
Let’s hope that he does so. Amen.