ANONYMOUS
Omar for Housewives
[Parody Omar Khayyam]
TO-MORROW a new Cook will come, you say,
To substitute the Cook of yesterday?
But shall the summer day that brings the rose,
Take Barbara and Mary Jane away?

I sometimes think that never burns the Bread
So black as when the tea is boiling red;
That every cabbage plant the garden wears
Knows more than any human Cabbage-head.

And this new maid who looks so fresh and green,
On whom with all my woes I fain would lean;
Ah, lean upon her lightly, for who knows
How soon she will get up and quit the scene?

Ah? my new handmaid! fill the pan that clears
To-day of unwashed dishes, stacked in tiers.
To-morrow? Why, to-morrow I may be
Myself obliged to wash them and for years!

Whether we roll in gold or have to pinch,
Whether the heart despair or merely flinch,
The window panes grow speckier hour by hour,
The parlour dust is thickening inch by inch.

Well I remember, watching on a day
Sue handling china in a heartless way
Till one white teacup raised a broken rim
And murmured, “Gently, Susan, gently pray!“

A box of biscuits underneath a Bough,
A can of beans, a bag of salt, and thou
Burned out and singing in the wilderness.
Ah, wilderness were Paradise enow!

So when the Angel of the muddy drink,
Called coffee, throws the grounds into the sink,
And, taking her departure, leaves you there
Alone to clean things up, you must not shrink;

But make the best of so-called‘ Help ‘ my friend,
Until we too into the dust descend.
Take up the work where hirelings left it off,
Sans Hope, sans Help, sans Dishcloth and sans end.