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The icing on the cake

Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com
Bill Ogden adored his girl Annie
Loved her with all of his 'eart
They'd only been courting for six months
When he promised 'Till death do us part.'

The way to man's 'eart goes the saying
Is feeding him good things to eat
And when William got married to Annie
He knew he were in for a treat.

See, Annie loved cooking and baking
'Twas truly her passion and pride
A bit of a gourmand was William
What more could he want from 'is bride?

She conjured up pasties and pastries
Cooking food that was fit for a king
Baked cakes that were light as a feather
Sweet puds that could make 'is 'eart sing.

As William grew fatter and fatter
Annie's expertise started to grow
She began by exhibiting wares
Near to Thirsk, at the Borrowby Show.

The cheese and onion pie got a mention
Her chutneys came in with two thirds
First prize for her Dutch apple pie though
And Annie was strugglin' for words.

Her signature dish was established
Perfecting it show after show
This pie always nabbed the top prize
Leaving contenders with nowhere to go.

Bill worshipped his wife's home-made cooking
In the kitchen, he'd often be found
Feeding his face with her goodies
As his belly grew ever more round.

Of all of the shows held up North
The biggest, and so most prestigious
Annie pursued the 'Great Yorkshire'
With a drive that were almost religious.

This show is the Creme de la creme
A real agricultural force
To exhibit your baking or jams
Your gin, or your spuds, or an 'orse.

It was an era, post 'foot and mouth'
Many livestock were tragically dead
But also a time before Covid
Had raised up its 'orrible 'ead.

Annie knew that she could have played safe
With her old apple pie reci-pee
But Victoria Sponge was her choice
To broaden her cook's repartee.

Practice makes perfect they say
And Bill was in 'throes of delight
Each cake tasted hot from the oven
Until Annie had got it just right.

Come the big day, she were nervous
'Reputation had drawn a big crowd
'Judge frowned when she say Annie's offering
"Icing on 'cake's not allowed."

A dusting of sugar's permitted
But paragraph three clearly stated
Victoria sponge is not iced
And poor Annie was 'umiliated.

"I'm afraid rules are rules," preached the judge
"It is something we cannot re-visit.
I'll still try a small slice or two
My dear, this is simply exquisite."

Gutted and crying was Annie
Bill tried of his best to placate
"Get your coat on my treasure, we're leaving
You're coming with me.  Harro-gate."

Now Harrogate's a beautiful town
Like Leeds,only smaller and posh
Bill escorted his wife into Betty's
And treat her to well fancy nosh.

Their high tea were served silver service
The waitresses pampered and fussed
Served fancies all smothered in icing
And sandwiches shorn of their crust.

Holding hands, Bill met his wife's eyes
"My darling, please make no mistake
I love you with all of my 'eart
You are my icing on 'cake.




By Hobbo

A contemporary poet with a Yorkshire sense of humour

4 replies on “The icing on the cake”

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