Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Dedicated To My Quilting Friends

I found this poem the other night and shared it with my husband who laughed so hard in confirmation of what is says. I hope you each get a smile out of it. I have seen it on several web-sites and the author is usually listed as unknown, an anonymous quilters husbaned and Cathy Miller. Whomever wrote this poem, I thank them for the smiles and dedicated this to my family and all the quilters husbands our there who love us in spite of our habit.

Quilters Husbands Lament
I’ve always known that life was full of obstacles and woes.
I’ve learned to live with sickness, death, taxes, heaven knows.
I’ve taken all these things in stride, the problems and strife,
But one I didn’t count on was a Quilter for a wife.
Come home from work, the stove is cold, the dirty clothes still there,
The suit I wanted cleaned today, still laying on the chair.
“Where’s Mama, son?” I asked my boy, “This house is such a mess.
Why, all the sheets are missing, we’ve been burglarized I guess.”
“No, Mama stripped down all the beds and took the sheets away.
She cut them into little strips and pieced two quilts today.
“ Why every pair of pants I own is cut in little squares.
“I’m demonstrating appliqué”, my lovely wife declares.
I show up in the office in my boxer shorts and tie.
My secretary giggles and the clerks give me the eye.
freezing cold, I’m shaking and my knees are turning blue.
My boss considered firing me, but his wife’s a quilter too.
I told him what happened and he said he could believe,
I noticed that the coat he wore had only half a sleeve.
A husband needs a loving wife to help him when he’s ill,
To soothe and comfort, mop his brow and help him take his pills.
Should influenza strike you, your life’s not worth a dime,
Particularly if it hits at Quilt Convention time.
You’ll lay there in an empty house in pain and deep despair
While the workshops and the lectures keep your wife’s attention there.
You learn to ask no questions when she smiles and drives away.
Rushing to the Fabric Shop for a big sale there today.
She’s gone for hours, then drags back home all bleary eyed and down,
Now who’d believe a lie like that? She must be running round.
But I’ll get by, I always do, some days are fine, some not.
When your wife’s a Quilter you tolerate a lot.
I know that when my life is through and I pass away,
They'll have to set my funeral so its not a quilting day.


Susan said...
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Susan said...

Great poem. Laughed myself silly. Will NOT show to my husband. I do feel sorry for him...
Was the last line of the poem omitted by accident? Felt like something was missing...

Susan said...

Glad you added that last line. Now that is REALLY funny!