An ode to the Welsh cake – A poem by Cathryn Scott
Are you a cake Or a little drop scone? It doesn’t matter, You’ll soon be gone Into my tummy You tasty wee thing. Oh, you’ll never know What pleasure you bring!
I like you best Hot from the griddle. Mustn’t roll you too thick – You’ll be raw in the middle. Raisins and cinnamon Mixed in with that dough. Sugar sprinkled on top, How I love you so!
Memories of mum My brothers and me cooking. Scoffing the dough When no one was looking. And now I’m all married, With kids one, two, three They do the same While I pretend not to see.
You never last long though, I can’t have just one. Overindulging is Part of the fun. On the day of our saint You are easily found. But I’m no fair-weather fan; I eat you all year round.
I bake them for loved ones Who now live away, A little taste of home When they come to stay. Delicious with breakfast Or a hot cup of tea, Oh! Humble Welsh cake! How I love thee.