My Mother’s Cohort

My mother’s humor was scatological.
She would tell bathroom jokes and curse up a storm.
My father was just the opposite.
He never swore and clean jokes were always the norm.
I’m the child of both those folks
and I came out somewhere in between
when it came to cursing and to telling jokes.
One of her favorite ditties,
“Here I sit broken-hearted,
came to…”
wasn’t her best
but then off to another ditty she would flit;
and probably you can guess the rest,
and my dad would tell her,
“Jeanette, give it a rest.”
To which she would give a ribald, and bawdy retort
and they were off to the races of a sort.
On second thought, I have to revise what I said;
In jokes and language, I’m really more my mother’s cohort,
which has been a problem for me, a minister.
Most often I would manage,
to watch my tongue not to create a stir.
but I have to say,
since retirement, my tongue
has often gotten in the way.
“I can’t believe you are a minister
when you talk that way,”
they would say,
and I would say, “Retired today,
tomorrow and everyday,”
with a few expletives thrown in along the way.

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