My mama said to get a man,
I first must prove myself a cook.
I could not feed him from a can.
I tried to learn how from a book
And sought to make a chocolate cake.
I didn't care how long it took.
I set the oven high to bake
Then sat to watch my favorite soap
And to plan the menu I would make.
The cake was burned without a hope.
It was a cheerless sight to see,
The smoke so thick I had to grope.
Since it seems a chef I'll never be,
I'll find a man to who cooks for me.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2010
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