398 – An Englishman’s Sausage Is His Castle

Poem number 398
An Englishman’s Sausage Is His Castle
They took away my cigarettes, they said they’d make me die
They took away the cow-brains from my steak and offal pie
They took away my extra salt, my sugar and my fat
And now they want my sausages, but I’m not having that –
I’m not giving up my bratwurst or my English pork and leek
I’m not giving them my Cumberland, it’s just a bloody cheek
They won’t take my chipolata
That idea’s a big non starter
I’ll just eat an extra dozen every week!
They can point their learned fingers at the writing on the wall
They can show me their statistics, they don’t bother me at all
For a sausage is a holy thing, not dangerous or wrong
So I’ll keep the faith and keep on eating bangers all day long
I don’t care if they are gourmet, meadow fed young British Lamb
Or cheap and cheerful tiny tubes filled up with processed ham
If it’s sausage it’s ok
And I’ll eat three packs a day
And I’ll treat all those statistics as a sham.
Those doctors think they’re helpful but they’re interfering shites
Who cares what decent working folk like scoffing every night?
It’s the right of every Englishman to eat until he’s ill
Cholesterol and sausages? Go on man – take your fill!
They can take their colon cancer and just stick it up their arse
Along with all those arteries so clogged that blood wont pass
‘Cause my death is guaranteed
No matter how I choose to feed
So I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.


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