Lemuel's mother hen would have some doubts,
Serious, nagging doubts, concerning you;
And I have mine, as big as brussels sprouts;
I have to air them out.  I've got a few.
The food you bring does not come from afar:
It comes from down the street a couple blocks.
Your arms are weak, too weak to push a car:
You couldn't even wrestle down an ox.  
You don't get up before the crack of dawn
To make me bacon, eggs, and cream of wheat;
Your candle's out before your final yawn;
And idleness's bread I've seen you eat.
But, nonetheless, I'd bet the family jewels
That you're worth more than rubies finely cut;
And I, who've been the poorest king of fools,
By having you, is richer than was Tut.
And if, between us, one of us is left
And one is taken, I'll be left bereft.