Soda Bread Poem by Michael Morris

On Saturday we all baked bread,
Gracie and Maddy and me.
Every one had a different job,
Mine was to oversee.

Maddy read out the recipe
She told us the things to get
Out of the pantry and cupboard
And whether we needed them yet.

Grace was our special weigher-out
To measure the flour and salt.
She did the job so very well
There wasn't a single fault.

Salt and flour went into the bowl
And some bread soda too
Then Gracie added the buttermilk
When Madeleine told her to.

Now Grace and Maddy began to knead,
Their hands all lovely and white.
They added more flour to stiffen the dough,
To make the texture right.

They rolled the dough into a ball,
And Gracie patted it flat
Maddy then cut a cross on the loaf
And that was the end of that.

Now into the oven the loaf was put,
That had to be my job
'Cos ovens are hot and nasty burnt hands,
Would cause little girls to sob.

In less than an hour the loaf was cooked
And I carefully took it out.
When Grace and Maddy saw their work
They each gave a little shout,

'Mum! Dad! Come and see our loaf'
We've made it all ourself
It's better than bread you get from a shop
Or a supermarket shelf.'

And when you spread some butter on
Each crumbly, crusty slice
We're sure that you are bound to say,
'This bread tastes very nice'

'For we had a special, magic thing
That you really can't buy anywhere.
When we baked that loaf for you
We added our love and our care.'