To and Fro

When I stay at daddy’s house,
I have to make the bed;
I have to get up early,
Brush some order to my head.
His wife is always telling me
To change my dirty clothes.
As soon as I walk through the door
She raises up her nose,
“Take those off RIGHT NOW,” she barks,
“And put these on instead.
I’ll have to wash these dirty rags
Till all the fleas are DEAD!”
Then daddy makes me clean my room
Before I get to play,
But who can play in tidy rooms
Where toys are tucked away?

No, I prefer my mommy’s house,
Where nothing’s in its place;
Where all the nosey neighbours say,
“That boy is a DISGRACE!”
Cause mommy loves me as I am
And leaves me to be me.
I wear whatever rags I want;
I even like the FLEAS!
My homework never leaves my bag;
I never have to clean.
I drink soda pop with breakfast,
And the food is NEVER green.
All day, I run around the house,
And do just what I please.
At night I stay up very late
And watch late night TV.

But I can’t stay at mommy’s house;
I always have to go.
And I don’t live at daddy’s house;
I’m always to and fro.
Sometimes I think that I’m two kids,
My mommy’s and my dad’s:
A messy kid who must behave,
A happy kid who’s bad.