Trimming

When your father, long ago, tried to train you—and you know
He thought mornings meant for school, and not for swimming—
How your heart beat loud in dread as relentlessly he said,
"You'll remember—when you've had another trimming."

When your daughter buys a hat, and you're wondering thereat,
As before the glass she stands, its beauty hymning;
Ah! the mischief in her eyes, as she pleads, "Show no surprise
At the cost. One has to pay for pretty trimming."

When the butcher brings your bill, and you stare at it until
Your tongue with fervid words is fairly brimming,
Then you hear him meekly say, as your anger you display,
"It seems high, because there's so much waste in trimming."

So when politicians try your votes to beg or buy
With their sophistry—your common sense that's dimming—
Just remember then the cost (and the waste, should all be lost),
Of the smooth-tongued, wordy trimmer's pretty trimming.