My Mom’s SpaghettiRate this poem
My mom makes disgusting spaghetti
with horseradish sauce and sardines.
She tops it with pickles and mustard,
bananas and barbecued beans.
She serves it for supper on Sunday.
On Monday we have it for lunch.
It’s breakfast on Tuesday and Wednesday.
By Thursday, you guessed it, it’s brunch.
I don’t like to hurt my mom’s feelings.
I said that I loved it. (I lied.)
I always gave mine to our doggy.
And that’s why our poor doggy died.
So next time you serve us spaghetti,
dear mother, don’t make it like that.
Please serve it with red sauce and meatballs,
and that way it won’t kill the cat.
--Kenn Nesbitt and Donna Lee Murphy
Copyright © 2006. All Rights Reserved.
Reading Level: Grade 1
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