Where's the Beef

Somewhere in the past of here and now
we started dining on the cow
and now they want us all to stop
but they can’t figure out just how.

There first attack the realm of coin
demands that you call it Sir Loin
for he is served with wine, a toast
unlike the lower caste Rump Roast

The ribs have found a changing niche
from barbecue to nouveau riche 
and pity those way too high strung
to savor the juicy silent tongue.

Note all the words of sated praise
from those who’ve dined on rare fillet
and curse all those who let it stay
upon the fire turning gray.

No burgers, cheese, a side of fries
I promise we won’t “Super Size”
No more drooling finger lickin’
Let’ just cut out eatin’ chik’n.

Perhaps the price is way too steep
Perhaps, lets just stop eating sheep.

John G. Lawless
©7/25/2022
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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Wolf Avatar
July 26, 2022 at 6:28 PM
Ba-a-a ba-a-a ba-a-a Can't stop eatin' 'em!! ~ Jay's Potato Chip
Logan Avatar
July 25, 2022 at 7:33 AM
How clever and entertaining are your lines, John. I'll pass on the sheep and the tongue but would love everything else. If only it wasn't so expensive now.
Buhagiar Avatar
July 25, 2022 at 7:20 AM
A butcher would praise this poem for knowing which parts are best to cook. I would prefer the fillet. Great fun poem.
Miller Avatar
July 25, 2022 at 6:44 AM
Very funny; I enjoyed this a lot; thanks for sharing.
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