Clanceys Sausage Delight

Sausages, sausages, sausages, An ongoing string, Attached by a swirl and twirl, Now there’s a thing, One runs into the another, How many do you want, For that depends, we have Long ones and short ones, And fat ones and thin, Where do you want me to begin? We have Portuguese and Greek, British, South African and German I offered the last string To someone unique, Who wanted a tweak, Asked if they were fresh and real, She actually had a feel! The German ones are spicy, And the Portuguese pricey, How much to you want to pay Me today? Edith replied, I have to say, The decorative way You hang your sausages And mozzarella balls, Make me giggle, They must tickle Your customer’s fancy, What do you say Clancey? Sausages remind me of days In every year, three hundred And sixty-five to be exact, So comfortably compact, One joined to the other, Each one offering spice, color, Taste and adventure, They come and they go, For everyone’s good cheer, Which must be had every Day of each year, Life is but a dream, Over in the wink of an eye, Now Clancey, With which sausage are you going To tantalize me with, my dear?