she's a great cook to be fair,

puts fine grub on the table,

sees me eat up with gusto

as best as my belly is able

she has a bread-maker now,

flour and yeast and pastry,

I must mind my waistline,

dont gobble it up too hasty

upset she is at what I leave,

fat gander getting force-fed,

guts so leaden and swollen

I'm no longer good in bed

obesity roost...

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You had hidden talents, special skills

One was bakinng bread

When first I smelt your crusty loaf

I could have dropped down dead

The staff of life, the staff of life is bread

A hot bloomer cant be bettered

The sight of you kneading fresh dough

Left my loins on fire, my lust unfettered

That first taste left me spellbound

Nothing was ever so evocative

From then...

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