Hubby is angry, I did not make him
coffee today, it is half past eleven on
a Saturday, the Boks lost to the All
Blacks because of my not serving
him coffee; rugby makes his life a
living hell, he must share the pain
with his loved ones, so he hands
on the pain to everyone who has
the amazing luck to cross his path –
Lay your burden on my shoulder,
let me carry the yoke for you, I’m
your Calvinist wife, we were born
to serve, especially making end-
less cups of coffee for those who
suffer the indescribable pain of
losing a match against the
All Blacks....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem