General Poetry posted February 22, 2020


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a poem

Getting $$$ from Dad

by Bill Schott



When the kiddies need some cash
to make a dash
for flair and flash,

they might use a toothy gnash,
dance the Monster Mash,
or do something rash;

perhaps resort to batting lashes,
respectful clashes,
or system crashes;

instigate some micro-bashes,
note culture gashes,
call me fascist.

So, in order to settle hash,
stop their talking trash,
dodge an ego thrash;

cut them a husk from my stash,
capital expectation slash,
and still get the Best Dad sash.

 

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