Food poems

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An Autumn Reverie

© William Topaz McGonagall

Alas! Beautiful Summer now hath fled,
And the face of Nature doth seem dead,
And the leaves are withered, and falling off the trees,
By the nipping and chilling autumnal breeze.

A Tribute to Mr Murphy and the Blue Ribbon Army

© William Topaz McGonagall

All hail to Mr Murphy, he is a hero brave,
That has crossed the mighty Atlantic wave,
For what purpose let me pause and think-
I answer, to warn the people not to taste strong drink.

Little Puddleton

© Robert William Service

Let others sing of Empire and of pomp beyond the sea,
A song of Little Puddleton is good enough for me,
A song of kindly living, and of coming home to tea.

Infirmities

© Robert William Service

Because my teeth are feebly few
I cannot bolt my grub like you,
But have to chew and chew and chew
As you can see;

Grey Gull

© Robert William Service

'Twas on an iron, icy day
I saw a pirate gull down-plane,
And hover in a wistful way
Nigh where my chickens picked their grain.

Decorations

© Robert William Service

My only medals are the scars
I've won in weary, peacetime wars,
A-fighting for my little brood,
To win them shelter, shoon and food;
But most of all to give them faith
In God's good mercy unto death.

Local Lad

© Robert William Service

I never saw a face so bright
With brilliant blood and joy,
As was the grinning mug last night
Of Dick, our local boy,
When with a clumsy, lucky clout
He knocked the champion out.

Dram-Shop Ditty

© Robert William Service

I drink my fill of foamy ale
I sing a song, I tell a tale,
I play the fiddle;
My throat is chronically dry,
Yet savant of a sort am I,
And Life's my riddle.

Mary Ellen

© Robert William Service

It's mighty quiet in the house
Since Mary Ellen quit me cold;
I've swept the hearth and fed the mouse
That's getting fat and overbold.

He gives me such a bold and curious look,
That young American across the way,
As if he'd like to put me in a book
(Fancies himself a poet, so they say.)
Ah well! He'll make no "document" of me.
I lock my door. Ha! ha! Now none shall see. . . .

While The Bannock Bakes

© Robert William Service

Light up your pipe again, old chum, and sit awhile with me;
I've got to watch the bannock bake -- how restful is the air!
You'd little think that we were somewhere north of Sixty-three,
Though where I don't exactly know, and don't precisely care.

The Ballad Of How Macpherson Held The Floor

© Robert William Service

Said President MacConnachie to Treasurer MacCall:
"We ought to have a piper for our next Saint Andrew's Ball.
Yon squakin' saxophone gives me the syncopated gripes.
I'm sick of jazz, I want to hear the skirling of the pipes."

Flies

© Robert William Service

I never kill a fly because
I think that what we have of laws
To regulate and civilize
Our daily life - we owe to flies.

Lost Shepherd

© Robert William Service

Ah me! How hard is destiny!
If we could only know. . . .
I bought my son from Sicily
A score of years ago;

Euthansia

A sea-gull with a broken wing,
I found upon the kelp-strewn shore.
It sprawled and gasped; I sighed: "Poor thing!
I fear your flying days are o'er;
Sad victim of a savage gun,
So ends your soaring in the sun."

Learn To Like

School yourself to savour most
Joys that have but little cost;
Prove the best of life is free,
Sun and stars and sky and sea;

An Epicure

Should you preserve white mice in honey
Don't use imported ones from China,
For though they cost you less in money
You'll find the Japanese ones finer.

Charity

Her patient heart was full of hope,
For health she gave God thanks,
Till one day in an envelope
I sealed a thousand francs,
And 'neath her door for her to see
I slipped it secretly.

The Dreamer

Hour after hour went by; a shadow slipped
From vasts of shadow to the camp-fire flame;
Gripping a rifle with a deadly aim,
A gaunt and hairy man with wolfish eyes . . .

Bird Watcher

In Wall Street once a potent power,
And now a multi-millionaire
Alone within a shady bower
In clothes his valet would not wear,
He watches bird wings bright the air.

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