Blossom’s Pudding

By Yvonne Rocque

(Dedicated to Blossom)

 

 

I thought I’d make a pudding

Of ginger, spice, and wine.

Got all the ingredients ready -

Before we sat to dine.

At 4:00 pm my sister Dot

And family came to tea.

Along with her came Blossom,

As busy as a bee.

 

“What are you making, dear”, she asked

And forthwith I replied,

A pudding Bloss, and you can taste,

If only you’ll abide

She took the bowl of batter

And asked if she could stir

“Oh no”, I said, “Don’t stir the thing,

Just fold in second gear”.

 

“Fold in the flour? What do you mean?

Then Dotty came to help.

When suddenly they jumped aside,

As I gave a little yelp.

“The milk, the milk! I forgot the milk”

So we added this in too.

Then Bloss poured in the batter

Into a bowl of blue.

 

I forgot to add the bicarb in,

Of which I meant to bring,

Dot added it, and prodded it,

Tying the bowl with cloth and string.

Blossom said, “Don’t blame me,

If it does not turn out right”

I told her not to worry,

She could have the very first bite.

 

The pudding sat in a bowl of steam,

And bubbled for hours on end.

I finally decided to take it out

‘Twas driving me round the bend.

Along came Esther for a taste,

And said, “Gosh Mum! It’s dead!”

Aghast I looked into the plate

And saw this lump of lead.

 

So Bloss here is a sample.

I give it just for you

Get Des to bite into it,

And see if he can chew.

“What to do with the rest”? said Bloss

“It seems like such a sin”.

“Just wrap it in newspaper Bloss,

Throw the damn thing in the bin!”

 

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Yvonne Rocque lives and works in Perth, Australia. She is a prolific writer of poetry and is, at present, working on her autobiography