Whisk(e)y cake

Whisky cake, O Whisky cake!
O alcoholic, frisky cake!
Oh, had I known what lay in store,
I might have spurned you, risky cake. 

In Sainsbury’s store lay requisites:
Spices, flour and fruity bits,
A pretty tin to carry you,
With flowers and hearts and such-like glitz.

A Sunday afternoon of baking,
Rubbing, stirring, sieving, shaking,
Oven heated, cake tins greased,
Oh the joys of fruit-cake making.

Savouring the rich aroma,
Amateur – that’s a misnomer –
(What is it comes before a fall?)
Give myself a chef’s diploma!

Sifted sugar, butter, zest,
Orange juice, freshly pressed,
Lastly whisky – that’s the icing,
Made with nothing but the best.

Actually, some might disagree,
About the whisky, for you see,
Tullamore Dew is not a Scotch,
But Irish whiskey, with an ‘e’.

Now the cake is good to go:
Icing like a field of snow,
Smooth and pristine. O vain cook –
Foolish braggadacio!

So the overweaning fool
Tenderly drives the cake to school,
Treads the darkened corridors,
Trips and drops it: fate so cruel!

The horror! The horror! Dark heart so sore:
Thus the world ends, with no more
Than a bang from the tin, a whimper from me:
Out of the cake tin, onto the floor.

All is not lost! The fates relent;
Though the icing's ruined, and the lid is bent, 
The cake survives, the tin’s upright —
Put on hold the last lament. 

A lesson in humilty,
And the advisability
Of caution in dark corridors
To guarantee tranquility.

Lucy's Car, by Dr PseudoSeuss

Lucy's car is bright and shiny,
Lucy's car is nearly new.
Lucy's says her car's a stallion
Fast and wild and powerful too.

Jack's poor car is not so sporty.
Jack's poor car is much more old.
Lucy's car has got the garage,
Jack's poor car's out in the cold

Lucy needs to tame her stallion,
Get her driving skills across.
Show the Mazda who's the master,
Show the sports car who's the boss.

Lucy loves her little sports car,
Lucy thinks it's oh so cool.
But she can't just drive all day long —
Lucy needs to go to school.



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