I think I’m going to shout again,
Or maybe I will cry,
While three annoying little shits,
Refuse to eat their pie.
I haven’t baked in any carrot,
Or sneaky peas or beans,
Forget the goodness, just fill up,
Or else I’ll have to scream.
No don’t just eat the pastry bits,
You have to have some meat,
Come on you bogans have a bite,
And you might get a treat.
No don’t you throw that fork away,
Or I will throw your train
And no you can’t have cheerios,
Don’t ask me that again.
Oh now you tell me that you think
My cooking tastes like arse
Well you know what? I hate that painting
You brought home from class.
And I will give you arse my friends,
With cold pig kidney stew
You’ll be begging for my pie
I am telling you.
You know what else? You’ll never grow,
You’ll always be that small,
You’ll never drive a tractor
Or dance in the town hall.
Oh please my darlings, I love you,
And I just want the best,
With empty tummies you might wake
And interrupt my rest.
Okay okay, I’ll take the pie
And chuck it in the bin.
Here have the fucking cheerios
I’m going to get a gin.