When I wrote the poem below, I was conciously imitating Mel's tone and something of her style. Her poems usually rhymed; mine don't. This is definitely a song parody, something that Mel appreciated, if she didn't often write herself.
This poem won a First Honorable Mention for Humor and I actually sang it (and even stayed on key!) when I shared it at an Open Reading. I mentioned I was thinking of Mel when I wrote it. Mel loved it!
HOME
or
A MOTHER’S LAMENT
or
A MOTHER’S LAMENT
(sung to the tune of “Home On The Range”)
“Adolescence is from ages 11 to 20”
--Dr. Doreen Jones
--Dr. Doreen Jones
Oh give me a home
Where the hormones don’t roam,
Where the children all happily play.
Where never is heard
A sarcastic word
And the dishes are all put away.
Home, home is so strange!
Who are these people in my hall?
They trip on their feet,
They don’t smell so sweet,
And when did they get so tall?
There is homework to tend,
Dirty laundry without end,
And practices involving a ball.
The oldest one’s phone
Has only a tone—
You think that maybe he would call!
Home, home is so strange!
Whose voice is that answering the phone?
Red hair is now black,
The fridge’s been attacked.
What I’d give for five minutes alone!
Where the hormones don’t roam,
Where the children all happily play.
Where never is heard
A sarcastic word
And the dishes are all put away.
Home, home is so strange!
Who are these people in my hall?
They trip on their feet,
They don’t smell so sweet,
And when did they get so tall?
There is homework to tend,
Dirty laundry without end,
And practices involving a ball.
The oldest one’s phone
Has only a tone—
You think that maybe he would call!
Home, home is so strange!
Whose voice is that answering the phone?
Red hair is now black,
The fridge’s been attacked.
What I’d give for five minutes alone!
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