Despair to my mother was I in my youth,
For I was considered inept and uncouth;
Unkempt and unruly
Was infant Yours Truly.
Throughout tempestuous puberty
She battled my uncoutherty,
And with a stern unfoolishness
Coped with my unrulishness.
My mother (flushed with her success)
Then tackled my unkemptliness
And with relentless recitude
Conquered my ineptitude.
How well my mother schooled me,
How well my mother fooled me,
At last I've discovered the terrible truth -
It's no fun being ept, kempt, ruly or couth.