If I were my mother.

You dare beat my child because she was wrong
Who handed you the right to scold for me?
You short looking man that teaches Agric

I’ll stun your sight soon with something tragic
I’ll serve you with my special kind of tea
Woe betide your trash mouth that houses your tongue

You know I’ve been observing you for long
You’re a busy body just like the bee
When I’m done there, to heal, you’ll need magic

I’ll surely hit you with something tragic
My small girl who is a lawyer to be
You dare hit her like you’re playing ping pong

Thank your stars that I am not my mother
Else, you’d have paid more for this your blunder

Tomide Abdul