I’ve crossed many rivers so cold
am known to be stout and bold
the likes of cheese and crackers
makes me lips go smackers.
The flavor kicks up me nose
like cat nip makes me doze
keeping a stiff upper lip
I’m careful not to slip
I keep some in me pocket
a back up in a gold locket
some for me and some for me cat
she goes lickety split at that.
Only one cheese is called Pastone
Can’t find elsewhere, so I make me own
Vapors of melting cheese I snort
Then smooth over a toasted torte
No recipe to follow on just a trial
poured into jugs to hold for awhile
some pimentos squeezed out to hang
gives it a ting adding a nice tang
across the vast greens of Killarney
I spill out some words of blarney
when I sell me bakeries of fame
quite delicious though just the same.
Sales are rising, which are not surprising
tasty and appealing and quite appetizing,
wrapped in blocks, not yet in slices
mild or sharp taste at the best prices.
Have built a small shop in Kitteny square
wagons coming in from most anywhere
the flavors are labeled and mostly known
buy the best, ask for Pastone
Categories:
pimentos, funny,
Form: Rhyme
Find me in California, or in Spain
With olive trees growing along my lane
I'll live in an olive house of green
With my spouse that's sweet-not mean
Olives I'll eat three times a day
The ones I drop will be marbles for play
All the clothes I wear will be an olive print
With a black, or a green colored tint
Pimentos compliment olives very well
And are often stuffed in olives for sell
I always bypass the bread and the meat
I'm always looking for olives to eat
My spouse can attest to my constant craving
Now, the cause of our relationship dilapidating
I'm afraid I'll have to give back a special crafted ring;
An olive, with pimento for stuffing, as bling
Categories:
pimentos, funny
Form: Rhyme