Best Yorkshire Pudding Poems
Dripping doorsteps or bubble and squeak
I ate so much I couldn't speak
Apple pie and clotted cream
Used to make my taste buds scream.
Home made parkin or treacle toffee
Steaming mugs of dads camp coffee
Corned beef hash or dumplings and stew
Onion gravy with a Yorkshire pudding or two.
Roast beef sarnies covered with mustard
Sherry trifle with banana custard
Hot steak pie and mushy peas
Cauliflower and melted cheese .
Lemon curd tart or angel cake
The sausage rolls my mum would make
The massive helpings on my plate
Turned me into a heavy weight.
My mother thought it a wonderful sight
To see a child with a healthy appetite
After years of dieting I'm now much thinner
Though I must admit I want my dinner.
When I was a lass, we didn’t have much
Funny how we liked it though, just as such
We played in the street with a whip and top
In the school playground on a hopscotch we’d hop
Streets were quiet ‘cause there weren’t many cars
Falling off our bikes to leave a few more scars
Dandelion and burdock to drink with Sunday dinner
Yorkshire pudding first, that was always a winner
I remember when I did the hula hoop real good
I can’t do it anymore but really wish I could
Blackjacks, fruit salad, sweets and sherbet dips
Pear drops in our penny mix along with cherry lips
Love hearts, fruit gums and liquorice shoelaces
Sports days at school, the egg and spoon races
The three legged race and the sack race too
There were lots of sports we had to try and do
We had to behave ourselves when we were young
At school in the assemblies hymns were sung
Snowball fights and sledging we had in the snow
Where did all those lovely years really go
Then we grew up and things moved on
All those years as a child had now gone
I remember it so well but it was long ago
I wish I was a lass again, knowing what I know
Jam roly poly, treacle sponge
And sticky toffee pudding head the top of my list
But apple pie, rhubarb crumble
Or a decent cheesecake are hard to resist
Banana splits, eclairs or brownies
Dumplings, nougat, cheese board or mousse
Crème brûlée. Fruit cocktail. Yoghurt
Serve it up and set me loose!
Rice pudding, Christmas pudding
Let me say it loud and clear
Summer pudding, Eve's pudding
Figgy pudding - bring it here
Cottage pudding, Diplomat pudding
Pancakes served throughout the year
Plum pudding, mango pudding
Put it on a plate and cheer
Hasty pudding, Saxon pudding
Vanilla pudding, chocolate pud
Yorkshire pudding filled with treacle
Make winter evenings warm and good
Sussex Pond pudding, sweet biscotti
Semolina (if that counts?!)
Panna cotta, profiteroles
Gâteaux. Meringues in any amount
I guess spotted dick is a bit of a worry
But to bread and butter pudding, I say "bring it on!"
I could plan on a flan, or a lardy cake
Or butter with glee my scone or scon'
Mince pies, cobblers, baklavas, strudels
Loaves and pastries - all tell a story
Even blancmange has a heritage
To match or beat our knickerbocker glory
There's fruit tarts, jam tarts, custard tarts, egg tarts
Milk tarts, cheese tarts, butter tarts too
Tarts from Manchester, Liverpool and Bakewell
French tarts, Jamaican tarts - to name but a few
Buns from Chelsea, cakes from Eccles
Wafers and muffins from all over the place
Doughnuts filled with jam or chocolate
Made to squirt on your shoulder or face
Strawberries & Cream, Eton Mess
Artic rolls and brandy snaps
Trifles should always be trifled with
If laced with sherry - it's a perfect nightcap
Sorbets leave the palate tingling
Fritters fritter your cares away
Waffles and crêpes warm the spirit
And sundaes are perfect for every day
So, whatever we may call them -
Be it puddings, sweets, desserts or afters
They taste best when shared with company
Served with a spoon, a smile and laughter
Pub in Yorkshire with stout and ale aplenty.
Red faces sweating with alcohol's influence.
Singing fine songs in reverie and ecstasy.
Salivating at arrival of that succulent essence.
Tender juicy slices of beef covered with gravy.
A splendour when touched by crispy bubbling pudding.
Roast potatoes smiling that wicked grin for tongue's activity.
Forks and knives clatter in haste for that delight of tasty supping.
Drowning that deliciousness with ale.
Rhyming lyrics midst throng of patrons' happiness.
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding you made me hale.
I will visit you often and celebrate tummy's warmth in merriness.
The smell of fresh baked bread
Knowing the hungry are fed
Sculpting an ice block into a swan
Crying profusely when it is gone
The different pastry tips to decorate,
A seven tier cake for a bride's new mate
The flambe flaring in the saucier's pan
The joy inside,from a customer's extended hand
A look of awe upon a new student's face
When she asks sincerely, how to keep up the pace
Teaching to cook completely from scratch
The proofs in the homemade Yorkshire Pudding: that opening cans, can not match
Dedicated to James Marshall Goff ( Jimbo )
A pretty face that wears a smile or giggles on the phone
When sunlight glances through an open door
A robin that will sit and talk when I am on my own
Or getting lost in stories I adore
Some apple-pie and custard or a welcome cup of tea
Or just a word from one I love, to say that she loves me
A deep red rose that smells divine or sparrows having fun
An ice cold tarn high on a Lakeland fell
Outrageous rhyme by Ogden Nash and toast that's quite well done
A bakery that spreads the fresh baked smell
My Mother's home-made gingernuts, another cup of tea
A message from the girl I love that sends her love to me
A cover drive from Ali Brown that makes the bowler glare
A leg break spinning past the outside edge
A buzzard by the motorway that plunges through the air
Or walking on a tiny mountain ledge
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and maybe another tea
While hearing from the one I love that she's in love with me
A snowflake in the winter and autumnal golden leaves
A crocus that says Spring is on the way
The beach when all the ladies have been met by clothing thieves
Or flying kites on any windy day
Some chocolate cake, a nice big slice, then wash it down with tea
Another for the one I love who says that she loves me
I smile for all these little things I smile for so much more
For happiness is all we really need
I count up everything I love and marvel at the score
Is garnering such blessings really greed?
A bag of jelly bellies and a nice hot cup of tea
A dream about the girl I love, and when she dreams of me!
In the ancient city of York
My friends and I have been for a walk
Studying a little Viking history
Instead of returning to the car
We decided to visit a bar
That's when a nice American couple ran into me .
Howdy y'all
In his best southern drawl
Do ya know where we might get somethin nice to eat
There is a restaurant in the bar
and its really not that far
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding would be a treat.
They were in the dinner queue
When my mate got out his snooker cue
After dinner might our American friend have a game
Of course you can play a frame or two
We'll be at the table waiting for you
but don't you think we ought to know your names .
Of course you should he said
This little lady is Andrea , I am Ed
I'll see ya soon an we'll have a beer
I knew when Andrea shook her head
He might be going shopping instead
but he whispered '' i'll be staying here''
Well he must have talked her round
Or a compromise had been found
Because soon he was telling his tall tales
Ya see American women , He insisted
Love to have their arms twisted
but if ya show em who is master it never fails.
He began to titter
Calling him a quitter
When my mate said he was going to call his wife on the phone
Just show her who is boss
She aint never going to get cross
She will know she has to leave you guys alone.
It was then Andrea came in
Her face as angry as sin
Ed had promised to meet her half an hour ago
C'mon Ed we teased
Show us you're the big cheese
Teach us what us soft British guys out to know.
I have never seen such cowardice in all my life
He was scared stiff of his angry wife
C'mon Ed pull the other one
You are no better than us Brits
You know when to call it quits
but thanks for the memory. It was fun.
GRANDMA’S ROCKING CHAIR Pt 1
Grandma sits in her rocking chair,
Wisps of silver in her hair.
She sits me on her voluptuous lap,
As tales of yore she does recap.
Id touch the whiskers on her chin,
“You’re growing a beard” I’d think with a grin
Her lavender scent wafted through the air
As Grandma sat in her rocking chair
A lacy handkerchief on her chest
As the babies fought for the teats on her breast
The milk dried up, there was nothing to eat
Grandma would take in washing to make ends meet.
Granddad had gone away to the war
Then a telegraph man came to the door.
He would not be coming home again
No more thrill of meeting him off the train.
Grandma knew she had to go on
For the sake of the kids she had to be strong
She would knit and sew, wash and clean.
Polish the shoes with spit to make them gleam.
The kids carried a pie to the bake house one day.
What no cooker you ask? Oh dear no way.
On the way home they dropped the pie
Will we get a good hiding they’d cry?
Yes times was ard, and they were poor
No money coming through the door.
Bu Grandma said that she was rich
How come I thought as she gave me a kiss?
CONTINUED 21st June 2008
Grandma rich, how could this be?
I thought as she rocked me gently on her knee
The children’s mouths got harder to feed
Clothes and shoes were their main need.
As the moon and the stars shone outside so bright.
Grandma would sing to the children every night.
For dinner was a Yorkshire pudding so round
It would fill them up without a sound.
Meat was a luxury, twice a year
No sweets no treats no toys no beer
But love and care given beyond recall
Were the greatest treasure of them all
So as Grandma rocked in her rocking chair
She taught me a lesson beyond compare.
I learned about, compassion, care and love
The RICHEST thing from heaven above.
I hear the creak of the rocking chair.
I look but Grandma is no longer there.
The smell of lavender wafts through the air
As I sit in Grandma’s rocking chair
First, I start with soup and bread:
A lentil porridge,
And then turkey breast and veg
With Yorkshire pudding -
Plenty of gravy -
Washed down with
Ale!
For Andrea’s Make me Drool with Epulaeryu contest
Roast Welsh mutton from Brecon
a Yorkshire pudding
A Melton Mowbray pork pie
Wensleydale cheese straws
Bakewell Tart and cream
Draught Bitter
Beer !
'Twas Christmas Eve and cheer abounded in the humble English cottage!
The olde house rang with joy since the children knew with certain knowledge,
That Santa and his reindeer would drop by for a visit later on that night!
Mum was fixing Yorkshire pudding and a goose for their Yuletide delight!
Papa and the kids had trudged through the forest to find the perfect tree!
It stood by the window brilliantly lit with candles for all passersby to see!
Snow flakes as large as ha'pennies wafted down and covered the roof,
To provide a smooth and soft landing place for each little reindeer hoof!
Later they gathered 'round the olde pump organ to sing carols of yore!
Papa read the Nativity Story since the kids wanted to hear it once more.
Mum served cocoa and biscuits with quaffs of hot cider in between.
No mere artist would dare capture with brush this cheery Dickensian scene!
The grandfather clock struck ten and the little ones were shooed off to bed!
They were tucked in bed after stories were read and their prayers were said.
They napped with one eye open when all of a sudden they heard much ado!
Leaping from their beds they tiptoed downstairs where they saw you know who!
'Twas jolly olde Santa busily placing toys 'neath their Christmas tree!
He saw them and said, "Won't you have some milk and biscuits with me?"
Santa smoked his pipe as they sat on his lap playfully tugging his beard,
When to their surprise it came off and the smiling face of Papa appeared!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Debbie Guzzi's "Happy Holidays" Contest
Things are not Right
Things aren’t right; I’m just not on the ball
No matter what I try; it doesn’t work at all
The words would flow, with ease I admit
But they now they seem to stick a little bit
They used to flow like rain down the roof
Now they stick together, and here is the proof
They would scatter and drop like the leaves in the fall
I’m having trouble getting any now at all.
I know it’s been a stressful time for me and for others
I have friends with woes never mind brothers
I feel for them all I cannot help it
But my words are drying, up and don’t seem to fit
The jigsaw of words seem to all be blue sky
Hard to fit together and I don’t know why
Well I have decided today I will not worry
As it is - I am in a bit of a hurry
Time to put the meat in the oven
Potatoes to peel and temperatures to govern
Mix up a cake some Yorkshire pudding too
Why don’t you come, I invite all of you.
If l had to choose my last meal in prison
What would it be
I don’t even have to think about it
As I know exactly
A huge roast beef dinner
With meat tender as can be
With crisp roast spuds and veggies
All smothered in thick tasty gravy
With big Yorkshire pudding
And yummy cauliflower cheese
My last dinner would be perfect
Now for my last dessert to accompany
To finish off my last meal
A dessert so delicate and fine
A warm gooey chocolate pudding
A full belly to farewell my life of crime!
Elsie, Lucy, Olive, this small boy's remarkable old aunts.
Oh, how they rubbed their hands.
But with glee or sorrow? Or even anger?
Elsie had a strict-looking expression -
when not rubbing her hands.
Lucy wore spectacles that pinched her nose
and, oh, had such a thin smile -
when not rubbing her hands.
Olive seemed serious, often frowning at me -
when not rubbing her hands.
But when they were rubbing their hands
they were ridding those hands of
flour that helped to make a cake or of
flour that helped to make a Yorkshire pudding or of
flour that helped to make joy -
the joy of making that cake or that Yorkshire pudding;
or of spiteful expressions they might wear when sneering
at this small boy, who would have to eat
their cakes or their Yorkshire pudding, or absorb
their sneers - sneers that were also smiles.
We remember our aunts in
the most remarkable ways.
I was a small boy.
(April 2023)
(Elsie appears in two other poems: "Aunty Elsie's Bathroom" and "Coronation for a King")
I love my Sunday dinner
Roast pork and stuffing too
Yorkshire pudding and garden peas
Potatoes not old but new
I'll just look in the oven to see how the pork is doing
Wow what a lovely smell
Do you think you will be coming?
There's apple and mint sauce to add unto the taste
So come and get yourself round here
There is no time to waste
I think I'll have my afters now
Sticky toffee pudding
I might as well finish this off
I don't think anyone's coming