What Shall We Eat?
Mother, my mother,
oh, what shall we eat?
We haven't potatoes
or even fresh meat.
We do not have fishes
or chickens on hand,
nor turnips or honey,
or anything canned.
Mother, my mother,
oh, what shall we eat?
My stomach is empty
and hunger complete.
I know father's gone
and out looking for food.
I hope he comes soon,
just to lighten my mood.
Mother, my mother,
I see father's feet.
He's carrying dinner,
oh, when can we eat?
YOU ARE READING
Poets Pub - 2019 Poet of the Year Contest
PoetryHello and Welcome to the Poets Pub's 2019 Poet of the Year contest. This is our annual contest, reserved for those who have qualified to participate. We encourage all to join in, in celebrating these worthy competitors.
