It's all a matter of opinion
We all have one of these
We always have something to say
Even if no one else agrees

My wife says I don't have one
I have to ask her what to say
She thinks I'll say something stupid
She says, 'You're just made that way'

If we go to a fancy restaurant
She orders what food we'll eat
She tells me when I'm finished
And when to leave my seat

Even on our wedding day
Before I could say, 'I do'
She told the preacher, 'Of course, he does'
So I just mumbled, 'True'

If it sounds like I am henpecked
My wife says that's not true
She says to tell you, 'You're all wrong'
She doesn't tell me what to do

So be glad you're not in my shoes
A man who lives this way
The only words I'm allowed to utter
Is, 'Yes dear, whatever you say'

Well, I think I'll end this poem
And try to get on with my life
But before I go, I want you to know
I probably better ask my wife