Thunder Cloud!

PINK SATURDAY


THUNDER CLOUD!

I don't know what occurred! I wasn't there!

Clearly Harry felt life was unfair!
Maybe he just didn't want to share!
He was a thunder cloud!

Robbo's twins, all delicate in pink,
Just saw him sitting there in such a stink!
What had come over him, they couldn't think!
A human thunder cloud!

But things have changed, for nothing seems to last,
And, for a Grandma, years have gone too fast,
But all those baby sulks are in the past.
There's no more thunder cloud.

Harry now is all of eight years old.
As for his manners...he is good as gold.
I find that Harry never needs a scold.
It's hard recalling that old thunder cloud.
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SELF CONTROL.

It happens time and time again

And, ladies and gentlemen, it's a pain!

Little children running wild,

Every one a problem child!

Witness Grandpa's tribulation

In this well-known situation.

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Little boy went running past!

Everyone looked on aghast!

Grandpa took him by the arm;

His voice was genial and calm;

'Control yourself, Fred! Settle down;

Try not to snarl or shout or frown.'

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A little later, if you please,

The boy went wild by the frozen peas!

But Grandpa didn't fume or fret;

He said 'Now, Fred, don't get upset.'

The other shoppers stood round gazing,

Finding his attitude amazing!

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Adults get angry as a rule,

Yet this one really kept his cool!

At the check-out grandson shouted!

Yelled and screamed and kicked and pouted!

'Steady, old fellow' Grandpa said,

' Get a grip on yourself now, Fred!'

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And all the while his tone remained

Calm and muted and restrained!

We looked on and were amazed

Because his voice was never raised!

'Congratulations!' we all said

'You kept your patience with little Fred.'

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Said Grandpa 'That little bastard's Leigh!

The Fred I was talking to was ME!'

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