A distracting face
So I look at it
Whenever the news is on
Political stuff mainly
Just terrible
Seen children scream
Run crying to their mothers
Seen many a face sore
Truth told
If it weren’t
For her inheritance
I’d be out the door
Some ugly ducklings
Turn into swans
Over time
Seems the lord
Done away with backhanded compliments
As soon as she came along
I shudder to think
What she’ll look like
In that pink frock
She got
For my son’s wedding
Poor fella
He’s in for one helluva shock
Going out for a meal
Can be awfully taxing
With strands of hair
Peering out from
Beneath her armpits
All I ever seem to be doing
Is begging her to wax
It ain’t all directed at her
I’m no oil painting
In fact
When the beers do flow
Diners keep telling me
I resemble that
Middleweight
Irish boxer
Names Ugly Joe