Half Term Blues

“Ma, I’m bored. I’m really bored!”
His voice grows shrill, can’t be ignored.
“Why don’t you clean your filthy room?
It smells worse than a mouldy tomb.
Why don’t you spend time and revise?
No chance this year you’ll win a prize.
Why don’t you ring a mate or two?
They’re out, not stuck at home like you?
Well come on then, let’s go to town.
It’s no fun with your mum around?
Well, you could surf the Internet.
Send e-mails to your cousin, Brett.
Or I know, go and play your drums.
You’ve played too much? You’ve hurt your thumbs?
Well I think you should walk your pet.
The dog you whined for us to get.
You won’t do that, you teenage brat?
Just laze about - just growing fat.
You feel too tired to walk the dog?
You say your brain is in a fog?
Well maybe you should go to bed.
You’re much too bored to sleep, you said?
Well, read a book, or write a song.
To waste your leisure time is wrong.
Ok. I’ve had it with your moans.
Don’t spend your next half term at home.

 

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