A Poem to Me Mudder

A Prelude to Father’s Day 2013

Frank Burton Boling

Frank Burton Boling

My dad, now 84, has always had a great sense of responsibility toward family, friends, neighbors, community, and sometimes even strangers in need.  He follows the letter of the law without ever once bending a rule. He dots all his I’s and crosses all his T’s.  But when it comes to his sense of humor and extremely sharp wit, it’s a “no holds barred,” situation.

The poem below (supposedly written in the early 1900’s by a Yuma Territorial Prison inmate in Yuma, Arizona), so amused him that he memorized it as a young person and often recited it over the years to groups of family members and friends.  The irony, of course, is that my dad grew up motherless and without adult females in his home.

The last time we revisited dad’s favorite poem was when I asked my brother to read it at our parent’s 60th wedding anniversary in 2006.  (In February this year they celebrated their 67th!)

A Poem to Me Mudder! (Unknown Author)

When me prayers were poorly said,
Who tucked me in me widdle bed,
And spanked me till me widdle ass was red?
Me Mudder.

Who took me from me cozy cot,
And put me on me ice cold pot,
And made me pee if me could not?
Me Mudder.

And when the morning light would come,
And in me crib me dribbled some,
Who wiped me tiny widdle bum?
Me Mudder.

Who would me hair so gently part,
And hug me gently to her heart,
And sometimes squeeze me till me fart?
Me Mudder.

Who looked at me with eyebrows knit,
And nearly had a king sized fit,
When in my Sunday clothes me shit?
Me Mudder.

When at night the bed did squeak,
Me raised me head to have a peek,
Who yelled at me to go to sleep?
Me Fadder.

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