This poem is from River Country Basket Guild In North Carolina. When I read it, it made me laugh because once you take up basket making, this is what happens!

My Wife's a Basket Weaver
She learned to weave on Monday.
Her basket was quite fine.
She forgot to thaw out dinner,
So we went out to dine.

She made a twill on Tuesday.
She says they are a must.
They really look quite lovely,
But she forgot to dust.

On Wednesday it was wickerwork.
She says the twinings fun.
Three rod wale and braiding rims,
But the laundry wasn't done.

Her basket swap was Thursday.
"Expect her late" she said.
I guess she really was too busy,
Cause she never made the bed.

It was ribbed baskets Friday.
Using new techniques for sure.
But she never seemed to care about
Her mess still on the floor.

So I found a maid on Saturday.
My life is now complete.
My wife can weave for hours
And the house will still be neat.

Well, today is only Sunday.
And I'm already peeved.
I cursed and raved and ranted
Cause she taught the maid to weave.