When homely woman stoops to folly
and finds, like Alfred, cakes can burn,
what can console her, melancholy,
what recipe the tables turn?
The only art that may recover
her fame from shame in every eye
and satisfy kids, husband, lover,
is find some frozen food to fry!
Another option to discover
when inclination is to cry
is compensation undercover,
seek out some chocolate and buy!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem