This Gastronomical Headboard
I have it in mind to purchase a pie
To feed to my several kin
I've seen one I fancy in a baker's in Nancy
With rabbits and wallabies in.
There is, however, a snag:
Although I'm extremely reluctant to brag
My culinary skills are so fine,
None could despise my puddings and pies
No cuisine is hauter than mine
- But those who eat it fall dead!
Oat-queasiness follows ingestion of same,
And terminal heartburn to boot
Flatulence, hair-loss, scabies and thirst
and boisterous loopholes of soot
and a chimney-sweep crawling about in my head.
Which burns with a quite unpredictable flame
While Abelard simpers `Besides ...
Your cooking's erratic, the outcome dramatic,
Not least for the indigent brides
That blaze in each heretic's bed
A pricker, a prancer, a tearer of sheets.'
Each listener blanched with distress
- a couplet! Oh no, what a mess!
Pathetic distortions, malodorous runt
With your hair in a mess and your shirt back-to-front,
Not fit to be seen in the shops or the streets
Or afloat on the sea in a hole-ridden punt
If you can't find me a pie
(Those wallabies aren't a must)
Then go down to Dover, in pigskin and clover
Remember others have tried
And failed abysmally many times over
Send for the Samphire Brigade!
And smother your lost twin in suede.
The pie was discovered afloat
The float was discovered up high,
A sumptous urn of miseries spurned
And a dry but delectable goat
Sniffed the saffron and diamonds nearby
| Contributors: | Peter Christian, Boris the Spider, Mick Mangan, boppo, Carl Wonzmann, Seamus Heaney, Geoff Pryke, Peter, Keats, Roland, lisa, mad marc, Jane Clare, Rosemary, TG, Irene Peters, Loo-ease, Jane C, Lumenabean, Shunty, Stacy Alexander. |
| Poem finished: | 1st June 1996. |