On Being a Sausage Roll

ON BEING A SAUSAGE ROLL Our other sausage acquaintances are real – Flavoured, pigmented, heated By boiling or frying : They have their dignity, though they too be eated. Our natural features, our inner glories, Are pastry-coated and abide In small bags from ye take-away, All similar and eaten cold outside. Or at best saucered and microwaved With ketchup to add insults : Not only hidden under pastry, Yea also ‘neath red chemical lab results. Never are we savoured like frankfurters Or slowly chewed like wurst. We are hurriedly snapped up like cakes and ale By a fat eater ready to burst In a line of crawling traffic, Or in a static bus queue. Inside an expanding waistline - Zwounds Ye fat paunch - with no limit in view. But soft! Life on the savoury pastry shelf Is a production line existence - not a role. Oh, to shuffle off this pastry coil - I’m just another sausage roll. .................................