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There's just no pleasing Davey boy, is there...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 looked for a clue.
Then I turned around,
And smacked the shit out of him.
The way his Mother used to do.
WHEN I get me hands on him, I wunna be smacking owt out of him, unless he wants smacking that isThere's just no pleasing Davey boy, is there...
Was?I was indecisive and couldn't decide where it should go, and it was beautiful.