MUD

I really love life as a rule and seldom am I sad.

But there's one thing that gets my goat, in fact it makes me mad.

I hate to step out in the spring and dread each step I take.

Because my lawn is not a lawn, but a slippery slimy lake.

I thought I'd shop a while to-day, so many things to do.

It didn’t look too muddy out, I thought I'd make it through.

I was mud from sole to ankle, and from ankle up to knee.

And how I Kept from drowning, is more than I can see.

I slipped, slid and splashed a bit, But no good did that do.

I never did get anywhere, in that awful, gummy goo.

First I was down, then I was Up, I'd lost my very pride.

I looked just like the hogs you see, along the country side.

My hat was gone, one shoe was lost, My coat was just a mess.

My feet and arms were dripping, My temper. "You can guess".

I tried to crawl, I tried to creep, just anyway you see,

To get back in my nice dry house, A haven dear to me.

But every step I tried to take, I found I just lost ground.

I had ceased to be a woman, I was just a mud mound.

And then the children saw me, You'd think they would be sad,

But the way they laughed and shouted, really made me mad,

Then they came out to rescue me, I wish they'd stayed away.

I'd seen all the mud I wanted, for this or any day.

Then they were in it to their necks, as happy as could be,

You'd think it was some sort of game, but it wasn’t fun to me.

Well, now they've got me in at last, and I am clean once more,

So are the Kids and all their clothes, I've even scrubbed the floor,

I never have seen such a mess, and I never will again.

I'll lock my door and hide the key, next time I see it rain.

I will not go outside my door, I vow this is no lie,

Until I can see dust again, and I know my yard is dry.

                                                                                     AUTHOR: Margaret Shankland