Ode To a Foul Meal

(A parody on Keat’s Ode to a Nightengale) My stomach aches and thunder rumbles in my bowel as if one minute past, I had eaten something foul. To sit and listen here, O bird, and contemplate, your song seemèd to me like ecstasy, though the urgency I now feeleth is such I need to placate! O for a hefty dose of relieving kao-pectate or a glass of seltzer full of efferescence like champagne, with little bubbles hastening to the rim – so keen! Now more than ever doth the curséd urge regain, just when thy song, O dryad, be at its richest. O dear! O dear! Me thinketh it best I hurry off unseen even as thou pourest forth thy song supreme– or I’ll do something nasty in me britches!