Ima, a new bride, knew ZIP about cooking;
she wasn’t a brain but ‘drop dead’ good-looking.
Her mate gave her a hen: “Dress it for dinner!”
‘Twas for Sunday; Ima thought a dress nicer
and, put a bow ‘round its’ floppy neck.
She splurged on a doll stand … what the heck …
Tim, unimpressed, counted to ten.
Tried making cookies—Magnificent!
She read: ‘Put ingredients in a bowl, beat it—
Ida beat it to her parents’ house that day—
The cookies didn’t STIR while she was away—
stupid recipe! Threw it in the trash can
with a bowl of Jello that ne’er sat but ran.
Tim took them to dinner again.
Ima read: ‘Wash thoroughly before steaming rice’;
It sounded silly but Ima bathed, smelled real nice.
Tim wanted a fruit salad for their supper.
She read: ‘Serve without dressing.’ Tim beamed, “Super!”
‘Angel food cake—twelve eggs beat separately;
she borrowed eight bowls, beat, it baked perfectly.
Ima, beautiful, wore a grin.
She, again, attempted making a salad.
(Tim was in the shower singing a ballad.)
‘Prepare a bed of lettuce; mix it for an hour.’
She threw greens in bed; jumped in the shower.
Next substituted ‘white’ paste for tomato;
this time they got their dinner ‘out’ but ‘to go.’
At least he’ll go ‘out’ with a grin!