Bohemia Village Voice

The Housewife’s Lament by Elizabeth Preston

 I cannot play an instrument
To make a joyful sound.
 I cannot sing so tunefully
That people gather round.
 I cannot write a novel
Which will earn me pounds and pounds
 I cannot, like some artists,
Paint a picture to astound.
 I cannot solve maths problems
My brain they always tease.
 I cannot tell the capitals
Of countries overseas.
 I cannot tell the dates of wars
Or when they made their peace.
 I cannot speak in foreign tongues
Or pass exams with ease.
 I cannot run a mile or more
Or swim across a lake.
 I cannot ride on horse-back
The thought just makes me quake.
 I cannot do the high jump
The prize I’d never take.
 I cannot toss the caber
But I CAN BAKE A CAKE!

[Taken from Bohemian Bouquet, published by local
poetry group The Bohemians, about 1980]