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Poem	Some poets sing of scenery; Some to fair maids make sonnets sweet. A fig for love and greenery, Be mine a song of things to eat. Let brother bards divinely dream, I'm just plain human, as you see; And choose to carol such a theme As ham and eggs and tea. Just two fried eggs or maybe three, With lacy rims and sunside up, Pink coral ham and amber tea Poured in a big, fat china cup. I have no crave for finer fare; That's just the chuck for chaps like me. Aye, if I were a millionaire-- Just ham and eggs and tea. When of life's fussiness I tire, And on my skull I wear a cap, As tartan-shawled beside the fire I stroke the kitten on my lap: Give me no broth and chicken breast; My last repast shall hearty be . . . Oh how I'll sup with chuckling zest On ham and eggs and tea!
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