The Porridge Disaster

“Away with you, Morag, you’ve spoiled the lot!

You tossed in more salt than the North Sea’s got!”

“Oh hush, Maggie, it wasn’t me!

It was your shaky hand, I could plainly see.”

 

“You silly old hen, you stirred it wrong,

With a spoon that’s been cracked for far too long!”

“And you, you clart, had the fire too high,

Now it’s stuck to the pan like a fly to a pie!”

 

They glared, they muttered, the porridge stuck fast,

Till both gave up on breakfast at last.

Morag laughed, Maggie just sighed:

“Next time, hen, we’ll just have fried.”

Done