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")
Traditional Sunday lunch
Of a forties child-
Mother's succulent roast beef
With Yorkshire pudding,
Gravy,spuds,carrots,
Cauliflower.
Cheese !
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
It shouldn't come as a surprise,
That gluttony is on the rise,
When TV 's are turned back on just after Sunrise,
To watch batter for Yorkshire pudding in the oven to rise.
Yet I wonder if it is all that wise,
For yet more cooking shows to devise,
When we know obesity is on the rise,
And operating tables are now of a bigger size.
So, yes it really is a surprise,
With many leading such busy lives,
That gluttony is on the rise,
As one would think TV would be taking a back seat in our lives,
Yet before the sun can rise,
Cooking shows are a sight for sore eyes.
When Sunday dinner is through
There’s something you must not do
Don’t flush Yorkshire Pudding
It could cause bad flooding
In toilets - wee paper or pooh!
Inspired by story on Sky News - you know me guys I just couldn't turn down the opportunity to do a limerick!
2/24/19
For every burger we consume,
Each hot dog we are chomping,
We should remember on this day
The Redcoats we were tromping.
For every icy beer we chug,
Each ear of corn we're biting,
We have to thank the colonists,
Who sacrificed by fighting.
If independence wasn't won,
We'd be on different footing,
Enjoying Shepherd's pie, perhaps,
Or maybe Yorkshire pudding.
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.
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
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.
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 )
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.
Cutting Thyme
Cooking time
Reducing Thyme
Yorkshire Pudding
Chef's bottle
Diner's delight!!
Roast Welsh mutton from Brecon
a Yorkshire pudding
A Melton Mowbray pork pie
Wensleydale cheese straws
Bakewell Tart and cream
Draught Bitter
Beer !
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
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
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