The Country Cellar

Quilter Husband's Lament
I've always learned that life

was full of obstacles and woes.

I've learned to live with sickness,

death and 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.

It's 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 it's not a Quilting Day.

Author: Cathy Miller