I was in a terrible panic.
My beloved was coming to lunch.
I wondered, "What will I make him?"
It was down to the "final crunch!"
I wracked my brain for ideas.
I looked in the cupboard for clues.
There was flour, vinegar, sugar.
Which ones of these should I use?
I'd been away at the college.
And had been home for only two days.
I was out of practice at cooking.
Oh, my mind was all in a haze.
My step-mom, she offered to help me.
She said, "I'll make you the meal."
I smiled, and I told her. "No thank you."
All my doubts, I tried hard to conceal.
You see, to me this was special.
This would be our very first date.
Its outcome, if proved a disaster,
Could determine my marital state.
If successful, he might want to keep me.
If a failure, well, I hated to think.
It could be, I'd end up an old spinster.
In despair, I was starting to sink.
So I pulled down my mother's old cookbook.
Were she living, she'd know what to do.
It was then that an idea hit me.
Thinking of her is what gave me the clue.
I'd make for dessert an old favorite
"Flapper pie." I had made that before.
So I gathered together materials.
I must hurry. It was going on four.
Oh, the pie. It looked so delicious!
And the meal?.. Well, it too seemed okay.
I was ready to greet my true lover.
So excited! What a wonderful day!
It had been quite awhile since I'd seen him.
He too had been away, off at school.
We'd been writing, and writing, and writing.
Oh I thought that this guy was "real cool!"
He was knocking! How my heart started racing!
Out of breath, I opened the door.
It was then that I saw "baby brother",
Sitting stark naked, there on the floor.
He had stripped off his own dirty diaper.
He was having a jolly old time-
At the dog dish, sharing food with old Rover,
On his face was a look, so sublime.
Well, that was the start of disasters.
From then on, they happened pell-mell.
To begin with, when My Love went to kiss me,
I tripped on his feet, and I fell.
And then--Oh I just can't believe it!
Introductions, I simply forgot.
But my Lover, in his jovial manner,
Saved the day, saying: "My name is Hart."
The dinner progress rather nicely,
That is, 'til we got to the pie.
One bite, and I knew what had happened.
Oh how embarrassed was I!
Instead of the sugar ingredient,
I had used a cupful of salt.
In tears, I fled from the table.
This for sure would put our romance on HALT.
But instead, friends, need I now to tell you?
Good Ol' Hart just laughed off my plight.
He asked me that night, would I wed him?
Was he simply just being polite?
Well, I found out that he wasn't joking.
From then on, our romance progressed.
We were married about a year later.
And I went from