peeny wally

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April 16, 2003

Poem From A South Texas Cookbook

Ballad of the Vegetables

A Potato went out on a mash,
And sought an Onion bed.
“That’s Pie for me!” observed the Squash,
And all the Beets turned red.
“Go way!” the Onion weeping said,
Your love I cannot be.
The Pumpkin be your lawful bride
You Canteloupe with me.”

But onward still the Tuber came
And lay down at her feet.
You Cauliflower by any name
And it will smell as Wheat,
And I, too, as an early Rose.
And you, I’ve come to see
So don’t Turnip your lonely nose
But Spinachat with me.

I do not Carrot all to wed
So go sir, if you please
The modest Onion meekly said
And Lettuce pray, have Peas!
Go, think that you have never seen
Myself, or smelled my sign.
To long a maiden I have been
For favor in your Rye!

Ah, spare a cuss! the Tuber prayed
My Cherryshed bride to be
You are the only weeping maid
That’s Currant now with me.
And as the wily Tuber spoke,
He caught her by surprise.
And giving her an Artichoke
Devoured her with his eyes.

(From “Pleasanton’s American Bicentennial Cookbook 1776-1976”)

Posted by pogo at April 16, 2003 12:41 PM