Toenails

You should see my brother’s toenails.
Our mum says they’re uncouth.
She says his left foot’s grown so hard
It looks more like a hoof.

My brother says his toenails
Are a proper bleedin’ triumph.
Our mum says he should cut them off
And donate them to science.

My brother, he was sleeping
When our mum took off his slippers.
She said, “That’s it! I’ve had enough!”
Then went to fetch the clippers.

The clippers broke. She grabbed the tools.
She started with the saw.
She cried, “Oh, happy, happy day!”
As each nail dropped to floor.

My brother slowly rubbed his eyes
And gave a tired grizzle.
He woke to find our mother stood there
Brandishing a chisel.

She said, “That’s just for starters, son.”
Her face was fierce as thunder,
And eyeing up his waxy ears
She went to fetch the plunger.