Pray,please for me

Pray, please, for me, you  who my cooker  broke

With faked food,  hot frying in my chamber.

I have seen them griddle, flame, and smoke

That now are  cold and do a  lamb dismember
Sometimes they  filed  their briefs  inside my Aga

And  flaked bread  on my hand; whereon  sheep tgraze;

Busily baking  buns with  a  new range

Spanked by government  fools so  very wise

Twenty more times cooked on ribboned  lace

On these thin oven trays, we twinkled ice

When my denim apron from her neck did fall,

She  caught  a fish  for me in her arms thrall;

Therewithall  while sweetly  we drank Kirsch
She softly asked, “How do you  like your flesh?”

It was no dream: my bread unruly baking.

But all is  bleak now, as I ‘m cooker-less
Entering a  strange new future of uncreating

 Yet I have  all this sweet new yeast to raise  and bless
And she  promises to use  fat cookery books much less

But since that I so kindly am  now served

I ache to know what special meal she loved