Fannie Farmer picked some peas and put them in a pot;
then she chopped fresh carrots and added them to the lot.
Potatoes; onions; along with diced tomatoes to be a stew;
cubes of beef for heartiness; a dash of salt; she was though.
Opening a window in her kitchen wide; anticipation grew;
She hated dining all alone; but what is a widow gal to do?
Simmered on low heat for some time; Fannie served it up;
fresh baked bread, with churned butter, she sat down to sup.
Then a knock upon her door; it was a neighbor stopping by;
“I smelled your stew; made me hungry, I cannot tell a lie.
I shouldn’t invite myself to dine; but here’s a fresh baked pie.”
“Do sit down my neighbor friend; there is plenty left for you;
Your pie is welcome as are you; we shall both have stew.”
Before long another knock; a traveling salesman at her door;
“Good day Ma’am; could I come in? My feet are really sore.
You don’t have to buy a thing; it’s free, if I might have your stew.”
Fannie sat another place; smiling broadly because she knew;
Every time she made this dish; company would stop in to dine;
She didn’t have to eat alone; and for Fannie that was just fine.