Mother would get so frustrated at times.
Raising six children was no easy
task;
Especially six who were so much
dissimilar
In interest and temperament.
It's no small wonder that
She was able to keep her sanity,
Able to refrain profanity
When six strong wills clashed with
her own.
Amazing we all came to be
fully-grown.
But mother has a secret companion
Tucked in the corner there by the
window.
Twenty-eight inches of flexible
pulp
Ripped from the limb of a nearby
hickory,
Standing in wait for her to command
With the quickness of lightning,
The sting of a bee.
We always knew when the call went
out,
When she summoned the threat of the
hickory switch,
The time had come when her patience
was broken,
Better to yield than to try and
pitch
Our case any further, although the
switch
Was really nothing to fear for the
pain.
But the choice was made. the course
was laid.
The switch had decided... There's
no more to gain.
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