CELIA'S POEMS

            No 31   April 17

            You know it makes be happy,

            When I can start to bake,

            Well because we’d have to eat it,

            I dare not make a cake.

            Often I’m in the kitchen,

            I may be there all day,

            I make trays and trays of goodies,

            Then give them all away.

            I feel sorry for my oven,

            It knows there’s something wrong,

            It thinks I’ve fallen out with it,

            I’ve not used it for that long.

            I really love my oven,

            It’s a real good friend to me,

            It’s my only bit of company,

            When I get up at three.

            Although we’re starting early,

            As soon as it is lit,

            It’s waiting at the ready.     

            For me to do my bit,

            Once we have got started,

            It’s quite an operation,

            But my oven bakes things perfectly,

            What good co-operation.

            My oven keeps on cooking,

            While I get on and mix,

            We’ve got a table full of cakes,

            And it’s not even half past six.

            But now my oven’s finished,

            I’ve my hands round a coffee cup,

            I’ll sit and have a rest now,

            While Geoffrey washes up.