A Woman’s PoemHe 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 perk the coffee right, He didn’t like the stew.I didn’t mend his socks, The way his mother used to do.I pondered for an answer; I was looking for a clue.Then I turned around and smacked the DUMBNESS out of him...Just like his mother used to do.Piece of StringA piece of string walks into a bar. The bartender eyes it carefully and says suspiciously, “Say, aren’t you a piece of string?”“Yes, I am.Why?”“Well, we ...