Page 42 - Poetry-Romance

The Sequel
(Respectfully dedicated to the author of “Nancy—An Idyl of the
Kitchen.”)

Oh lovers, who fancy that if you are rich in
The love of a damsel who knows how to sew,
Who passes her mornings at work in the kitchen,
Your cake’s in no danger of turning out dough,
Come listen awhile, as in mournfulest verses
A sufferer tells what you all ought to know,
And here for your benefit bravely rehearses
How his cake, alas! proved the heaviest dough.

My Prudence, although not possessed of a nickel,
Was raised by a notable mother; and so
There was nothing she could not preserve or else pickle.
And her heart seemed as light as was always her dough.
How often by chance, or by warm invitation,
I dropped in to tea, only lovers will know;
And though of my coming she’d no intimation,
She’d always fresh biscuits of well-kneaded dough.

“Ah, here,” I exclaimed,” is the girl for my money:
It’s not a great deal, but how far it will go
With a wife who makes bread that is sweeter than honey,
And who isn’t too grand, the dear thing, to knead dough.”
With a prospect like this, I’d no reason to tarry;
She owned that she’d loved me “a long time ago,”
And when I suggested that straightway we marry,
She rose to the plan like her own lovely dough.

And what is the sequel? My home is perfection,
No doubt you will think. Oh, how much you all know!
My wife is fatigued with a daily inspection,
And firmly declines the least contact with dough!
My little appeals to her conscience are slighted;
She’s deep in a novel when not on the go,
And asks, with a smile, if I’m quite so benighted
As to think her fit only for kneading my dough!

~ 40 ~