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Supermarket jive!We went to the supermarket, In me wheelchair, for a drive, It's always the same, it really is, We do the 'supermarket jive!' My son is only 6ft 3in, At 17 years of age, And if anyone knocks me out the way, He flies into a rage! He starts off with a 4 wheel drive, And barges through the crowd, 'Slow it down,' I stammer, 'Speeding's not allowed!' A grin spreads on his face, And I hold on real tight, We're doin' the supermarket jive, So I pray with all my might! It's not that he is bad, He just thinks it's fun, To go haring round the shops, At a fifty mine an hour run! When he takes me out, I really have to say, No-one shoves me around, Cos they all move out the way! Now when my daughter takes me, I'm black and blue all over, She lets every body pass, It aint no bed of clover! I've had people on me knee, And knock me on me head... Yes, I have to say it, I'm lucky I'm not dead! So first choice for the wheelie, Has to be 6ft three, Cos I must admit, with him I'm safe, He lets no-one harm me you see! So if you shop in (As*a)- People please beware! He'll knock you flat, just like that! And he won't even care! He's 25 now, and still a torment! But a lovely torment! And I love him, what can I say; I'm his mum!! Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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