Peace

I used to be so mellow
I was a sweet old fellow
But my nerves are not strong
They couldn't bear the onslaught of SONG.

Six grandkids, chosen for the vocals
Belting out the lyrics like yokels.
Six voices in fractured chorus
A bevvy of toads sounds less raucous.

I stormed in, slamming the door
"What're you making that noise for?"
I yelled and demanded some quiet
And put a stop to the throaty riot.

The silence was peaceful, I could doze!
I could read or write if I chose!
No shouting, no screeching, no jarring note
On my dream cloud I could happily float.

"May we sing?" they asked the next day
But I wanted the peace to stay.
I stamped my feet, I worked up a rage
I took the newspaper and ripped a page.

Like scared kittens they scampered
"Grandpa is now so bad tempered!"
They went to a friend's to chorus there
And I curled up restful in my armchair.

For the last twenty years I've gotten my way
By yelling and grumbling couple of times a day.
It's worth the effort, I tell you
For the restfulness that does ensue.

For the last twenty years, I've given no margin
I'm the world's grumpiest curmudgeon.
I'm also the happiest, deep inside
I keep the peace in this house with a lot of pride.

Written for "The Writer's Cramp" 
For the Prompt ▼

(Prompt by Robert Waltz)
NEW PROMPT: Tomorrow, January 29, is Curmudgeons Day. This observance celebrates the birthday of noted curmudgeon and comedian W.C. Fields. Write a story or poem about someone who became a curmudgeon exactly 20 years ago. What was the incident that changed them? Do they have any desire to stop being a curmudgeon? In honor of W.C. Fields, one required genre for your item is: Comedy.