Here it comes again, piled high on my plate
That horrid green spinach I've come to hate
If I dare leave any, they make such a fuss
Mother goes purple, from Father it's a cuff

I'm sure that it's rotten, my tummy all green
Sometimes parents can be nasty and mean
Saturdays are nice, Aunty Jean comes to tea
We'll have meat and potatoes, with carrots and peas

Sunday is the best, I get jelly and ice cream
Chicken with sauce, that Mother calls "Supreme"
Aunty Jean tells me, when I am full grown
I'll be able to cook anything, in a kitchen of my own