VI @ LXXXX

  
VI @ LXXXX

Dearest mother of mine, you have passed 89,
Which distinguishes you from the rabble,
But I have one request if I may be so bold--
Could you please try to ease up on Scrabble?

I must note with dismay that you frequently play,
As your hapless opponents you're crushing,
Using cuss words like 'tup', which when I looked them up
Would set even a longshoreman blushing.

And a chortle or more I could simply ignore
When you know you're about to defeat me--
Must you kick up your heels and dissolve into squeals
Just to rub it in each time you beat me?

Let us speak, too, of Rage.   I would think at your age
One might seek out some shred of decorum,
Yet you shout out with glee, 'Janet's got minus three'
And the games go your way when you score 'em.

Now your birthday has come, so let's bang on the drum
From Toronto to Tennessee to Texas...
In the quaint way they wrote it when you were first born,
Happy L and a whole bunch of Xs.