In kitchens warm with joyful strife, A Yom Tov blooms from daily life. The hands that knead and stir and bake, Craft more than food; it’s peace they make. The iron hums, a soothing song, Sheets crisp and fresh as right from wrong. Though gifts may be made less of iron, This simple work helps hearts that yearn. In gratitude for labors vast, We find the peace that holds us fast. A token small, but deeply meant, Use it, and be forever sent. May every act, though humble, show A love as high as skies can grow. Gezunterheit in each task lay, To greet the Yom Tov in your way.