(N.B. Mom, I don’t mean that you literally said all these things. Poetic License.)
Did your mom tell you, Don’t run or you’ll fall?
How ’bout don’t cross your eyes, they’ll stay that way?
This room is a pigsty, I heard it all,
Don’t run with scissors I learned the hard way.
I felt a weird resentment when she said
In times of misery, This, too, shall pass.
With these tangles, spiders nest on your head
Accompanied a hairbrush. Oh, alas!
Sit back from the TV, she always cried,
Or you’ll go blind, as if she really knew;
Don’t run with that — you’ll poke out someone’s eye!
To bed, no supper or dessert for you!
She always said, Put on a coat, or freeze,
Or wait an hour after lunch, you’ll get a cramp
Just for me eat some of those yummy peas,
You’ll catch a cold outside, your hair is damp.
Our mothers always did their best to bust
Our fun, or just scare the shit out of us.