For women must cook and men must eat,
And the nearer the bone the sweeter the meat,
Tho’ ’tis better by far with no bone in.
Three wives sat wearily “watching for pa,”
Till the sweet chimes jingled the midnight hour,
And they waited and watched with the doors ajar,
Oh, where were the joints, the spuds, and the flour!
For women can’t cook if the cupboard is bare,
And a dinnerless Sunday will make a saint swear,
With the poor little children moaning.