The Coming Woman

3 0 00

The Coming Woman

Just look, ’tis a quarter past six, love⁠—

And not even the fires are caught;

Well, you know I must be at the office⁠—

But, as usual, the breakfast’ll be late.

Now hurry and wake up the children;

And dress them as fast as you can;

“Poor dearies,” I know they’ll be tardy,

Dear me, “what a slow, poky man!”

Have the tenderloin broiled nice and juicy⁠—

Have the toast browned and buttered all right;

And be sure you settle the coffee:

Be sure that the silver is bright.

When ready, just run up and call me⁠—

At eight, to the office I go,

Lest poverty, grim, should overtake us⁠—

“ ’Tis bread and butter,” you know.

The bottom from stocks may fall out,

My bonds may get below par;

Then surely, I seldom could spare you

A nickel, to buy a cigar.

All ready? Now, while I am eating,

Just bring up my wheel to the door;

Then wash up the dishes; and, mind now.

Have dinner promptly at four;

For to-night is our Woman’s Convention,

And I am to speak first, you know⁠—

The men veto us in private,

But in public they shout, “That’s so.”

So “bye-bye”⁠—In case of a rap, love,

Before opening the door, you must look;

O! how could a civilized woman

Exist, without a man cook.