The weapons of murder were knife, fork and spoon;
The culprit — the dear wife herself;
The kitchen — the scene of the shocking deed,
Where for years she was wrecking his health.

She'd pile high his plate with the best of cusine,
And treat him to tasty delight.
She spared not an ounce of her energy or time.;
She'd not have her man feel a slight.

So she filled him with gravy and pie-ala-mode,
And ignored his cholesterol count;
The gout in his feet no registry made,
Nor the height his blood pressure would mount.

She still piled high his plate with the best
Of pastries and meats and stew;
Preceded by Zantac and Pecid AC,
Followed by Gasix and Tums not a few.

Health food, she reasoned, was just poppycock;
Her husband had hard work to do.
He needed good meals of potatoes and meat;
Of veges and fruits he ate few.

So she fed him for years on high fat and salt
Which he ate with relish and zeal.
They both just ignored the doctors' advice;
They felt fine. Neither felt any ill.

The murder was slow, it worked by degrees
Over fifteen or twenty-five years;
Done at the hands of a dear, loving wife;
Without malice or meanness or fears.

But chest pain now kept him awake in the night.
There was heartburn after each meal;
Exlax provided his bowel stimuli,
Slow death he was starting to feel.

Clogged arteries shut down his heart one day.
It couldn't be started again.
Poor man, he was murdered by his dear, loving wife
Who bitterly wept o'er her slain.

She was charged with no crime, for why should she be?
She had fed him American style.
The diet he asked for and ate with delight;
Made him another statastic in a government file.

Dear husbands and wives, please listen up well.
You hold life and death on your fork;
When you eat things forbidden by God in His word:
Like the blood and the fat and the pork.

Slow murder has become a daily event;
There is death in the kitchen at home;
"Would not eat and drink to the glory of God"
Could be writ on many a tombstone.

Linda Sutton 1/1/1998