"Who Looks After Your Kids?"

"Who looks after your kids when you work?"
"Who does the housework?"
"How do you manage working those long hours with a family?"

Well, there's their father, and a nanny and a day care centre
but they don't really hear, the people who ask.
They don't want to know about it.

What they want to hear is:
Who does the housework? My henpecked worm of a husband. 
Me, until four in the morning. A Jamaican wetback whom 
we blackmail into slaving for peanuts. Nobody, we all live in a huge tattered
ball of blankets like a squirrel's nest.

Who bakes the bread? Never touch it. Mac's Bakery.
The pixies. A little old Irishwoman named Kirsten Emmott comes
in every week.

How do you manage with the kids? I don't. I neglect them.
I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown, please help me.
I'm drinking heavily. I don't give a damn about the kids,
let them go to hell their own way.

Who looks after the kids? Nobody, I tie them to a tree in
the back yard every day. My senile old grandmother. The 
Wicked Witch of the West.

—Kirsten Emmott