The Shopping Trip

By Baz Cann

The freezer, fridge and larder don't contain very much, So off to town we set ourselves in search of such and such, Along with us we take our son to see what's to be had, Not a clever idea is that; we must be raving mad !

The supermarket car-park is a hellish sort of place, Cars being used as dodgems against the human race, All curses and hand signals, and tempers sorely frayed, Just to get in the parking spot for which you've dearly paid.

A trolley's a requirement to contain what you've in mind, One that moves in a straight line is quite a unique find, Then laddie says "I'll push it!", and grabs hold of the cart, You seize the thing back before he rips the store apart !
Idle hands make the Devil's work, or so most people say, No-one is proof against this, when shopping in this way, For off-spring has decided on a few more bargain buys, As parents show a strange look of red mist in their eyes.

The stock is moved about the store randomly once a week, And those with impaired vision play a game of hide and seek, For what was on the shelf right there is somewhere else instead, Why did we even bother in getting out of bed?
And so off to the check-outs we fervently do go, To find a pretty young thing, on a constant "Go-slow", We bear the scars of battle from a thousand shopping carts, And as we bag the produce, our young 'un loudly farts !
Embarrassment is hard to hide; it's time for us to go, But youth has further on his mind - "They've got a cafe, I know". We look outside at carnage, and where we parked the car, And both decide the dash to be just a little too far !
Now I've been asked why most men just don't like shopping trips, Well in this little poem you may just find some tips, I'd much prefer a quiet stroll, with everything to hand, Than all in one shop wrestling, with a basket in each hand !
Baz