Richard Willard Armour | Jul 1906 – Feb 1989 | American
To feed the baby's quite a chore;
We plead and threaten, rant and roar.
We try to joke, we gently coo;
The joke's on us – the food is too.
To feed the baby's far from fun,
It's touch and go until we're done.
Here comes a squall, his mouth is puckered…
It's Baby's bib, but we are tuckered.
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08-Nov-2011 12:17 PM