This husband of mine
is a treat to behold;
He's a real old sweetie
and does what he's told.

Well, not really I fear,
he's definately the boss;
He tells me the answers
when I'm at a loss.

He cooks like a chef
and gives free hugs,
He's even explained the species of bugs.
I need him for sure,
He's certainly the best
Putting up with an Aussie,
he knows its a test.

When we talk to each other,
It can be a bother,
With accents and sayings so odd;
But we work things out,
without a shout,
He's a long, tall, blonde haired old bod.

Okay now, it's my turn to have,
the t.v. remote control;
I'm tired of sci-fi or history or war,
Or Californian cops on patrol.
I want quilts and decorating and art,
Despite our differences,
we'll never be apart.

He can go fishing
with his mates from town,
Till he gets back,
I have the loneliest frown;
Hoping he's safe and taking good care,
Driving along, maybe seeing a bear.

He makes me cuppa's of wonderful tea
Bakes me cakes for all to see,
Lasagne's his favourite
and best cooked dish,
Spaghetti too, or anything I wish.

There's only one thing
which  I do not like,
It makes me shiver and shake,
It's Goulash you see, it doesn't like me.
Which I beg him, please do not make.

His feet are big and he eats a lot,
And his hair is fairly sparse,
But he'll do me
The test you see,
He'll surely come through with a pass.

He's a Canadian bod,
who shares my home,
With Wilbur, Frisky and me.
Lots of laughs and things to enjoy;
We live in the woods in upper B.C.

~ Jana MB~
2001
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