"It's the FASHION!" she'd say, in an arrogant way,
As if this on its own could explain
Why she'd treat other people with utter contempt,
And her parents with sneering disdain.
It appears it was FASHION to never clear up,
And to leave dirty clothes on the floor.
It was FASHION that caused her to swear on the phone,
And to never once answer the door.
If FASHION declared she should be late for school,
Then late she would just have to be.
It was FASHION that said to have breakfast in bed,
And also her dinner and tea.
Her mother she pleaded for her to behave,
Her father tried sarcastic jibes,
But the one thing that worked, although just for a while,
Were some fashionably expensive bribes.
At last her poor mother lost patience with her,
As parents eventually do,
She cut off the telly, she cut off the phone,
She cut off the internet too.
No money for make-up, no money for sweets,
No money for girl's magazines,
No money for trainers, no money for clothes,
So vital for girls in their teens.
The poor girl she pouted, she slammed doors and shouted,
She screamed and she sobbed and she cried,
"Oh Mum, you must hate me to treat me this way!"
"It's just FASHION!" her mother replied.