Socrates Never Washed His Socks: A Mothers' Day Poem

In Greece of old
So we are told
Socrates never wash’d his socks.
Not nosesome chore
Nor so much more;
Shrew Xanthip’ pounds rocks; gadfly mocks.

Bard sired three
‘Fore London spree;
No crib or diapers on the stage.
Anne tired be
With babes on knee;
Second best bed for her old age.

Thinker so sour;
It’s dinner hour.
Is Schopenhauer’s shopping done?
The will’s supreme;
Demands the cream;
Keeps Frau Landlady on the run.

The patent clerk
Had time at work
To figure E is m • c • c.
Two wives to cook;
Kreplocks he took;
Relativity’s quite tasty

If fame you do
Wish to pursue;
Mothers need must philosophize.
Homemaking sways;
Kids in the ways;
Securing wife in life is wise.