How come when I go to the fridge there’s always nothing there?
The kids they always clean it out and surely that’s not fair.
They’re always in the flamin’ thing and treating me old hat,
The missus says, “They’re growing dear, you must allow for that.”
“Too right they are, they’re endless pits and never do a thing,
so what creates their appetites has got me beat by jing.
The vo-vo biscuits disappear; I never get a one
and should I leave some choc’late there, when I go back there’s none.”
My threats to cut allowances they just fall on deaf ears,
the missus says I’m too darn tough, to leave the little dears.
Their hides are tough as old cane toads and show no sign of fear;
my son now thinks he’s got the right to drink my flamin’ beer.
They never leave my fav’rite sweet. That’s ice-cream in a plate.
With nuts and topping over it. Is nothing sacred mate?
But then last week I was in luck, I couldn’t believe my eyes
there was a little ice-cream left, which caught me by surprise.
Then waiting til they all went out I’d beat their little butts
and eat the ice-cream that was left, with topping and some nuts.
But darn the topping was all gone. Those rotten lousy kids;
so laid the nuts on extra thick and fin’lly made my bid.
But just as I was tuckin’ in the taste it seemed quite queer;
a bitter sort of taste I thought, though ate it all I fear.
My wife then walked in through the door, she never missed a trick,
“I see you’ve had some ice-cream dear.” Her eyes were rather quick.
“With lots of nuts as well,” I said, “’bout time I got my share,”
“You could not have had nuts,” she said, “because there’s no nuts there.”
“Did too!” I said, as proud as punch, “‘Twas bitter though not bad.”
“I tell you dear there are no nuts, so show me what you had.”
I pointed out the canister that stood there on the shelf,
while she began to laugh like mad and couldn’t control herself.
Her laughter it was justified, ’cause sprinkled in that plate
was granulated garlic folks … and that is what I ate.