But I Don't Like Peas

I'm sitting down to supper.
I wonder what we'll have?
My mother is a capital cook!
That makes me giggly glad.
She cooks a roasted turkey.
It's juicy, crisp, and sweet.
At least, that's what my Daddy says,
BUT I DON'T LIKE MEAT!

I hear the kettle boiling.
My auntie makes some tea.
Of course, that's what the grownups drink.
I know its not for me.
If I drink this other stuff,
Strong bones in me are built.
It soothes my uncle's ulcer well,
BUT I DON'T LIKE MILK!

There's always mashed potatoes,
Or fried, or baked, or creamed.
You know, I thought I ate one once,
But it was just a dream.
My Grampy says green vegetables
Are extra good for me.
My brother eats them from the pod,
BUT I DON'T LIKE PEAS!

Now, every kid likes chocolate,
Thick and sweet and brown.
Every time my finger dips,
My mother makes a frown!
My Gram gives me an apple,
And tells me that I'm cute.
I guess I am good-looking,
BUT I DON'T LIKE FRUIT!

My family will not listen.
There's something on the shelf.
You spread it on some buttered bread.
Make it easy on yourself!
I cannot get my point across.
I'm in a fix. I am.
They say: "Please eat your supper, Jill.
You can't have bread and jam!"