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Edgar Guest - Bread And Jam
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I wish I was a poet like the men that write in books
The poems that we have to learn on valleys, hills an` brooks;
I`d write of things that children like an` know an` understand,
An` when the kids recited them the folks would call them grand.
If I`d been born a Whittier, instead of what I am,
I`d write a poem now about a piece of bread an` jam.

I`d tell how hungry children get all afternoon in school,
An` sittin` at attention just because it is the rule,
An` lookin` every now an` then up to the clock to see
If that big hand an` little hand would ever get to three.
I`d tell how children hurry home an` give the door a slam
An` ask their mothers can they have a piece of bread an` jam.

Some poets write of things to eat an` sing of dinners fine,
An` praise the dishes they enjoy, an` some folks sing of wine,
But they`ve forgotten, I suppose, the days when they were small
An` hurried home from school to get the finest food of all;
They don`t remember any more how good it was to cram
Inside their hungry little selves a piece of bread an` jam.

I wish I was a Whittier, a Stevenson or Burns,
I wouldn`t write of hills an` brooks, or mossy banks or ferns,
I wouldn`t write of rolling seas or mountains towering high,
But I would sing of chocolate cake an` good old apple pie,
An` best of all the food there is, beyond the slightest doubt,
Is bread an` jam we always get as soon as school is out.
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