He didn't like the casserole, and he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard,
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't make the coffee right,
He didn't like my stew,
I didn't fold his pants,
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer, I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked him,
Just like his mother used to do.