How I’ll crack my puzzle trouble . . .

I’M A number puzzle widow And you’ll know just what I mean If you’re not spoken to, or listened to, Or sometimes even seen. It is my fault, I know that now, For I bought him the book, But what I did not realise — It came complete with hook. It’s a clever little puzzle To fit numbers one to nine Into three by three squares, Completing every line. It will boost his brain power, Of that I am assured, Increasing his libido And stop him getting bored. The only problem seems to be, If I have got it right, He has to keep on practising Morning, noon and night. I’ve put his books into the bin, Or hidden them in the shed, I’ve even been known to tuck them Underneath the bed. But that simply does not stop him; It does not stop his fun, He just goes out into the shops And buys another one! But this coming Christmas, I’m going to fight right back, I’m going to buy a puzzle book And put it in his sack. And then his smile will disappear, His will, will all go slack, When he realises his darling wife Stole the answers from the back!