Long Pud Poems
Long Pud Poems. Below are the most popular long Pud by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pud poems by poem length and keyword.
Don’t worry about being thinner
Get yourself off down the pub
Then go home to a good British dinner,
Of British traditional grub
Delicious roast beef of old England
Served up with a thick Yorkshire pud
With roast spuds and cabbage and carrots
Plus gravy in which the spoon stood
What’s wrong with a good stew and dumplings?
Made with some prime neck of lamb
Or a thick slice of home boiled bacon
Instead of that wafer thin ham
Fried eggs and bacon for breakfast
A steak that’s surrounded with chips
Some mushrooms and beans or tomatoes
Can I hear you smacking your lips?
Give me pork chops with a kidney
A helping of wild rabbit pie
With carrots and peas and thick pastry
For which old Auntie Bessie would die
Kippers, smoked haddock or winkles
Mussels or soft herring roe
Jellied eels, tripe or pigs liver
I think I might give it a go
A thick slice of cheddar is pleasant
Coated with pickle of course
Or maybe a plump well hung Pheasant
Plastered with cranberry sauce
Blackberry and apple crumble
A dollop of cream on the plate
This is making my tummy rumble
Give me some quick I can't wait
A big lump of home made bread pudding
Or maybe a nice spotted dick
Served up with syrup or custard
Providing the custard is thick
A stuffed Sheep’s heart makes a good dinner
Or a nice deep-fried black pudding ring
On a slice of fried bread, did you hear what I said?
This is food that is fit for a king
When you’ve feasted on cabbage or brussels
Don’t ever consider you’ve sinned
Just be certain your close friends and family
Are seated some distance up wind
A plateful of boiled new potatoes
Dashed with salt taste exceedingly nice
If you give them a try will you no longer buy
Bean shoots or Chinese fried rice
Avoid all these kebabs and curries
They look like they’ve been eaten before
You’ll be finding them most Sunday mornings
On the pavement outside your front door
Don’t listen to these dieticians
Between themselves they can’t agree
Nobody mentioned cholesterol
Until nineteen seventy three
Make sure all your dinners are British
Now you know the foods that I mean
We never defeated old Hitler
Eating Pasta or Nuevo Cuisine
Form:
Another Christmas day is finally here
The very thought fills me with such fear
I have to try and control my old Aunty Mable
Once she hits the gin she gets very unstable
Uncle Arthur rushes in and opens the sherry
then sups half the bottle and gets really merry
He begins to sing carols at the top of his voice
I put up with the din… I don’t have much choice!
The last to arrive are old Gladys and Bert
Bert always wears his distasteful Santa shirt
Gladys walks through the door and starts to moan
I wish Bert would leave the old cow at home!
She whines from the moment she removes her coat
And heads for the sofa and grabs the remote
Demanding she has her dinner on her knee -
There’s some crap on the TV that she wants to see
I politely tell Gladys the dinner table is set
And the film will be repeated of that you can bet
So she sits at the table and picks at her starter
then moans very loudly to poor Uncle Arthur
The table’s soon laden with wonderful food
But Gladys is seething, she’s so blinking rude
She says the turkey’s tasteless and it's bone dry
So I pass her the gravy and I try not to cry
Bert finishes the bowl of chestnuts and sprouts
He’ll be passing foul wind in copious amounts
After rich figgy pud he crams in six mince pies …
It’s no wonder he’s gross with huge wobbly thighs
They descend on me each and every year
And eat all my food my wine and my beer
Then we open the gifts that lie under the tree
As per usual they bring just one present for me
Gladys has knitted me a horrendous jumper
it's two sizes too large, I just want to thump her
I dutifully put in on and I feign my delight …
but it will be in the rubbish bin later tonight!
At three we watch The Queen on the telly
Bert’s farting begins; the room gets so smelly
Within minute’s they’re snoring away in their chair
I retreat to the kitchen and silently swear
By the time they wake up all the dishes are done
The doorbell rings; thank god their taxi has come!
This is the LAST time they'll take advantage of me …
Cos I've booked a yule cruise on the Caribbean sea!
Fiction write
12/14/17
"Is there anyone for stuffing?
Well done George, send us down your plate,
Auntie, if you've finished with the cranberry sauce
Could you please pass it across to Kate?"
"Brian can I interest you in my brussels?
There's nothing quite like a good sprout,
If anyone wants anything passed,
Don’t wait to be asked, just shout."
"Richard, will you please sit and eat,
And just stop irritating Claire,
No, you better wash your hands first,
You're getting gravy in her hair."
"Ted, you wanted more potatoes,
What, you only want one or two?
But the ones left really aren’t that big,
I'd better pile on a few."
"Sarah, you're not looking after your young man,
The poor boy's been left to starve,
Go and get him some more turkey dear,
Your father will help you to carve."
“Malcolm, not too much in Grandma’s glass,
You know what she gets like,
Open another red for Father,
I’ll stick to the bubbly-white.”
"Well if everybody's had enough,
I think I'd better finish the peas,
Richard, don't cough over the table,
Remember your manners, please."
"Ah, make way for Father and the Christmas pud,
I hope he hasn't overdone the brandy,
Saints preserve us ... Father’s on fire ..!!
Oh, well smothered dear, three cheers for Mandy,
Hip, hip, hooray,
Hip, hip, hooray,
Hip, hip, hooray."
"No, Louise, you can't pull the crackers yet,
We're saving those for tea,
Richard, take that stupid tinsel off your head,
And put it back on the tree.”
“Everyone go in the other room and play games,
Just leave all the dishes to me,
I’ll do the washing and drying up,
While I’m sorting out something for tea.”
“Richard please don’t tease the dog,
Claire don’t pin that tail on the cats,
Lloyd, play nicely, stop fighting with Louise,
You’re ruckling up all of the mats.”
“Hmmmnn … not quite enough sherry in this trifle,
Hick … I think there’s probably more in me,
I’m sure I’ve been working far too hard,
Hick … I’m feeling quite dizzy.”
“They say that Christmas comes but once a year
And aren’t I just glad that’s so,
It’s nice to see all of them for a while,
But it’s even better to see them go …”
At ten o’clock each morning, the Barley Tavern opens up its door,
and every now and then I saunter down, just making sure,
that Ken the barman hasn’t slept in, so he might need a call,
to satisfy those with the D.T.’s with their backs against the wall.
There was Cec who had some problem that gave him a raging thirst,
and Pud an ex-trucker that from the grog was surely cursed,
as was Mal the one time hero of the Tavern’s hookey class,
but at ten o’clock on week days, they all hold a shaking glass.
Although once that first beer hits the lips, life is all brand new,
so with steady hands and addled brains they hop in for a few,
and give some cheek to Granny Smith, the Barley Tavern’s kitchen staff,
who likes to get into mischief, as long as it gives here a laugh.
Granny’s trained to live upon her wits as pub cooks mostly are,
once boozing tongues are loosened up from smart Alecs at the bar,
and I chuckled at the comments that were thrown by Pud and Cec,
but Granny didn’t seem herself today, in fact she looked a mess.
Her hair looked like it needed brushing, and her eyes were glassy too.
She wore a frown upon her face, and I’d say she’s had a few.
I must admit that I was worried; Granny’s usually carefree,
so when she staggered to the kitchen, she needed my therapy.
But before I had a chance to help her, a young bloke stepped inside .
He was panicking I tell you, before with me he did confide.
“My Grandma works somewhere in here,” and held up her headache pills.
“She’s picked up the wrong pill bottle!” Granny’s grandson loudly shrills.
I calmed the lad down just a mite, and I led him from the bar,
and found Granny in the kitchen who’d took up a boxing spar.
“Gran! Gran!” the kid yelled out, “those pills you took from home are mine!”
But Granny Smith just threw a left, and yelled “get out you flamin’ swine!”
“Now Gran” her grandson added, “Will you hand back those pills to me.
I’ve written on the label with a texta, the letters L-S-D.”
I nearly had a heart attack, and Granny uttered quite bazaar,
“Stuff your bloody pills young man- chase out the dragons in the bar!”
Past My Sell By Date
My face is getting wrinkles
My hair is turning white
My bladders getting weaker
I have to get up in the night
All my Joints are creaking
I'm in such a state
I think that I just have to say
I'm past my sell by date
When I go out walking
I have to use a stick
My weight is on the up and up
My waist is getting thick
I need to get much fitter
But I'm afraid that its too late
I think I must admit it
I'm past my sell by date
But look there in my cupboard
There is a Christmas pud
I know its past its sell by date
But I bet it still tastes good
I may be old and wrinkly
With joints that creak but wait
I can still enjoy myself
Though I'm past my sell by date
I wont live forever
But I can still live well
And if they say I'm past my sell by date
Well they can go to hell
Denis Briggs 2017
Christmas is creeping in.
I’ve seen my first quality street tin.
The John Lewis advert is out
And the motorised reindeers about.
Shop windows glitter and glow,
Ladbrookes give odds on the snow,
The eyes of the new generation
Are fixed on the latest PlayStation
Mariah Carey is on every show
That pumps out from the radio.
Signs on the roundabouts point
To the nearest Christmas tree joint.
Loft ladders are let down once more
To retrieve the decs from their store
Dads swear in temper and stress
“How could the lights get in this mess ? “
Will there be any turkeys left
Or will the table look bereft ?
Must dig out the walnut cracker
And get my nails booked for a lacquer .
Christmas films on every channel
Full of righteous, festive, flannel
In which life’s drama and life’s dread
Is all made right with gingerbread.
Cinnamon taints everything
Oh Hark - the herald angels sing
But there’s little Christmas love or grace
When you cannot find a parking space.
Supermarkets fill their shelves
With stollen cakes and chocolate elves,
And blokes buy beer to stow away
That’s mostly drunk by Christmas Day.
While some begin to deck the halls
And others feast on cheese footballs
Some just sit and contemplate
How did we all get in this state ?
The days just disappear
As the Yuletide feast gets near.
The shopping list keeps growing
And there’s endless to and froing
Time to pour that glass of Sherry
Time to consult Mary Berry
To make the perfect Christmas pud
The way that only Mary could.
The pogues ring out on Christmas Eve
Shoppers bustle, wind and weave
Through busy crowds they dodge and shift
To find that perfect Christmas gift.
Carollers by the corn exchange
Suddenly come into range
Familiar carols tug the heart
With words that speak of a new start
Will Noddy Holder save the day ?
Will we escape this Yule affray ?
But don’t give up, if all else fails
You’ve got the January sales.
© Mike Miller
“Knock, knock” “Who’s there?” I haven’t a clue
What day is it? Who’s at my door?
“Here is some breakfast I made just for you”
Says some stranger who slept on my floor
The sight of the eggs and the bacon and tea
Turns my stomach inside upside down
Migraine’s the price that I’ve paid for the glee
Of a banging night out on the town
“‘Ere, it’s New Year, do you fancy a beer?”
“No thanks, mate, I’m feeling quite rough”
I may have blacked out after midnight I fear
But now I’m…remembering…Stuff
Slowly but surely it’s coming to mind
As glimpses emerge from the fog
Of a twist and a twerk and a bump and a grind
And my new Christmas phone down the bog
I thought I was hot but in retrospect not
In the morning light nowt could be plainer
And that I remember I like not a jot
My naked and drunk Macarena
Oh me and my mates, we do get in a state
And last year we gave it some welly
But if anyone had not enough on their plate
We’d do onesies and pizza and telly
My mates are my life, we’re a pretty tight bunch
They’re alright, mate, they’re really all right
But last night I must have been well out to lunch
For I reckon I started a fight…
It was something to do with a girl I once knew
And a joke that she did stuff for money
And a fine upper cut in the queue for the loo
Well, I thought the punch line was funny
Oh, what’s in my pockets, this isn’t my coat
As I’m clearly not Super or Dry
And what are the words that are writ on this note
‘Bell me, baby, you’re totally fly’
And I’m going commando, hilarious bants
Will be had in regards to my loss
Much mirth to be had from the sight of my pants
On the top of the Market Cross
It’s not looking good, and tucked in to my hood
Are two gherkins all wrapped in a bra
Half a kebab and a squashed Christmas pud
And a wing mirror nicked from a car
I think I’m experiencing chemical guilt
And at some point I’ll have to atone
But right now I’m going to hide under my quilt
Crying blubbery tears for my phone
by Gail
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
I remember those days when just a kid,
the old ten shilling note, and the odd quid.*
Teddy boys in their drain pipes, fur collars
smelling of nicotine, street wise scholars.
Conkers,* glass alleys* and comics as well,
bow and arrows, gat* to ring the school bell.
Electric tram, trolley bus and steam train
holidays in Blackpool, not yet in Spain.
Left over stew, dripping dispersed on bread,
a choice of marg or jam, not both was spread.
Roly-poly pud with custard, oh yes
school dinners, oh the ridicule the stress.
Journey in to space radio drama,
while bathing in a tin bath pure karma.
Medicals at school and nit nurses too
combing for the eggs, washing with shampoo.
No drugs, only cigs in small packs of five,
fifty fifty dance halls, old and new thrive.
Outside loo, oh them freezing winter nights
oil lamps, a candle to enhance one’s lights.
High street fish and chip shop charging nine pence,
potato crisps, tab* of salt to dispense.
Tanners,* hape’ny’s* and those threp’ny* bits,
meccano sets, clockwork trains came in kits.
Motorbikes, British pride on just two wheels,
Triumph, BSA, a nation reveals.
Alas long gone these balmy days of laze,
happy to have played a part in this phase!
*Quid:::: A one pound note (UK)
*Conkers:;;; Game played with the fruit of the horse chest nut tree.
*Glass Alleys::::: A type of Marble for the game of marbles.
*Gat::::: A catapult, or slingshot..
*Tab::: One brand of crisps in the UK, place a small blue pack of salt in each packet
*Tanners:::: A sixpenny coin
*Hape’ny’s::: A halfpenny coin
*Threp’ny bit::::: A Threepenny 12 sided coin, also called Thrupence depending where one resided in the North of England
.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
It was the night before Christmas
Not a sound was heard
Except for the sound of Mods
Discussing the Foxestalk message board.
The subject was a Christmas party
Which happened every year
There was always panic among them
As the dreaded day drew near.
Who should they invite?
Will there be fights a free for all.
Finally they decided
Sod it we'll ask them all.
It was to be fancy dress
And would cause much fun
They even hoped that a new fan
Cyril the squirrel would come.
At the mods headquarters
They were getting prepared
For what could be a complete disaster
So they were also getting scared.
In a long flowing Shirley Bassey dress
Moosebreath waltzed through the door
Moosebreath says I have finally come out
I'll wear dresses now for evermore.
TPH came as Bob Dylan
Trav La bleu was Elton John
Foxy was John Lennon
Captain Pancake Face Red Rum.
Mike Oxlong Father Christmas
Bellend as a xmas pud
Dangerous Tiger was Lenny The Lion
Which everyone thought was very good.
Lamby came as Nigel Pearson
Which was a big surprise
After five minutes he said
I have work I'll have to fly.
The guests arrived one after the other
Too many to name
Dressed in all types of costume
All willing to join the game.
Jordon travelled from the USA
With a mask of JFK
Spielberg was played by 21st Century Fox
The bloke in the kilt Orkney Fox
Zingari was next and looked weird
He said I am really an alien they do exist
You are in my power now
I have three eyes so do not resist.
Mattp was a late arrival
Dressed as a city gent
He said i stopped to tie a shoelace
And some tramp pissed on my face.
The party went into the night.
All full of Christmas Cheer
Thank you all for coming says Webbo
But next year someone bring some beer.