To Much Salt In The Stew Poem by David Darbyshire

Like a picture not quit in focus,
I squint my eye's in disbelieve.
Is that you coming over the horizon?
Or is that the Indians and their chief?

Somehow I wish it was you,
cause looks like I am going in the stew.
I think, I need not worry though,
my true love will come to the rescue.

To my astonishment that was not true,
I see her handing out knives and forks.
I just don't believe my love, what do you do?
Crazy now she has Champaign, and a corkscrew.

Well it looks cut and dry,
I think I am going to cry.
I suppose that will not do,
there would be to much salt in the stew.