Salt Dough - Poem by Michael Morris
'Let's make some salt-dough! ' Gracie cried.
And Grandad sighed, 'O.K.'
(Her Mum and Dad had left the child
With Grandad for the day)
A light blinked on in Grandad's brain
'But I don't know how, ' he said.
'It's easy, ' bubbled Gracie,
'It's a bit like baking bread.'
'Just get me flour and get me salt
And a little water to mix it,
Then we'll add some drops of cooking oil,
That really ought to fix it.'
The dough was made by Gracie's hand
And a lovely figure appeared,
A lady with a hat and shawl.
Now Grandad grew a-feared.
For salt-dough models are made hard
By a process akin to firing.
Dare he plead the cooker was broke,
Some problem with the wiring?
But Gracie could surmount this fault.
With a face quite stern and grave,
'Grandad, if the cooker's broke,
We'll use the microwave.'
The deed was done, the model in,
A problem raised its head.
How long do you bake salt-dough for?
'Five minutes on full, ' Gracie said.
But long before the time was up,
Alas and Oh! Alack,
The kitchen was filled with billowing smoke,
Dense and acrid and black.
'Go in the garden, ' Grandad gasped
As the smoke alarms went off,
He opened all doors and windows
As he fought with a choking cough.
At last the smoke was wafted out
And Gracie allowed back in.
'Do you think I could paint my model now? '
She asked with a cheeky grin.
We'll draw a veil over Grandad's words,
Suffice it to be told
Her Mum was shocked when from Gracie's lips
The self same phrases rolled.
Now Grandad's banned the microwave
When Gracie comes to stay.
And if you mention 'salt-dough'
His hair turns a lighter grey.
His eyes will then glaze over,
His face turn a deeper red.
'Don't ever mention those words again,
Until you're sure I'm dead.'
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