“Hello, who is this??” Dad would shout
When he talked on the phone.
He’d be so angry with them if
He’d dialed the number wrong.
He thought that they should know right off
If they didn’t know who he was,
He’d slam the phone down in their ear,
As he let out a loud cuss.
And no amount of reasoning
Could make him understand;
“What did they answer the phone for
If they don’t know who I am?”
copyright © 1999 by moleta ruth mccarter. all rights reserved.
