Guest Writer!

There was a young person named Jean
Whose life was a young woman’s scene,
Beauty school was right
And she raised hell at night
Then went to work for a beauty machine.

She was married but the marriage was bad
Except for the kids that she had
They were raised by her nearly
alone, for dad clearly
Was no help and that was quite sad.

So she started her business, with strife,
While trying to build a good life
Her beauty shop grew,
Her clients were true,
The kids aged, took a husband, a wife.

This person named Jean is now old
With opinions she speaks out quite bold
60 today it turns out,
A shame, it’s making her pout!
‘Cause 2 Grand-girls she’s got in the fold.

This old grandma who’s still known as Jean
Has developed a thumb that’s quite green
Her knowledge of plants she imparts
To her daughters, granddaughters hearts
And of gardens she is certainly a queen.

Now an epoch will seldom be seen
In this limerick style, somewhat mean
But in truth I will state
If you look at the slate
You could consider her epoch obscene.

Concluding I must say one thing other,
Your mom said that you could sure smother.
You say "not like her a bit,"
But even you must admit,
Each year you get more like your mother!

Writen in love by your older but younger looking brother!