Poem number 295
A Trip To The Butcher
The butcher had no bacon
No sausages or chops
No spare ribs and no liver
Stocked in any of his shops,
He said that all the pigs had gone
They’d fled to old New York
Which is why all over Britain
There were no more bits of pork.
“Oh woe!” I cried, “Oh woe is me!
I need my bacon roll
I can’t start the day with nothing
But some bran flakes in a bowl!
Mend it Mr Butcher Man
Sort out this woe toute suite –
I can’t go without my sausages,
I need some pork to eat!”
With that the butcher cried “You’re right!”
And grabbed his trusty knife,
Then as fast as butcher lightning
He had sliced and diced my wife!
He portioned her in vacuum packs
Stuck on a Best Before,
Whilst I stood there with my mouth agape
My chin upon the floor
Then at last my wrath exploded
And I yelled with all my force
“That’s my wife you stupid idiot
I didn’t want divorce!”
“Be calm good sir!” He said, serene
“You’ll thank me later on:
When you’re munching on her liver
You won’t mind that she is gone.”
“You’ve missed the point!” I shouted back
“You stupid fetid crook –
Her meat may well be lovely
But I don’t know how to cook!
My wife did all the kitchen stuff
I haven’t got a clue
How to fry or grill or saute
Or to boil or steam or stew
So my wife’s remains are useless –
I can’t eat a single slice!”
And I threw the vac-pacs back at him
And left there in a trice.
Which means, my friends, I’m leaving now
I’m off to pastures new:
I’m going to buy a Russian bride
Who’s good at cooking stew
And when she’s proved her cooking skills
I’ll take her to New York
In the hope of finding butchers
Who can sell me bits of pork.
Poem number 295