Pork Chop Bone
Contributed by
Hamp
on
Friday, 3rd October 2003 @ 04:05:00 PM in AEST
Topic:
happypoetry
|
Here it is, my favorite treat.
Meat of the swine, when I get to eat.
Not really the meat, for which I long,
On a chop, it’s the bone!
I really hate, when people come to visit.
The wife serves the chops, man, I miss it.
Have to use a knife, in which to eat,
In small little squares, slice the meat.
No matter the knife, no matter the “hone.”
Still a lot left, around the bone.
Just the other night, she was pretty and polite.
As was I, with all my might.
It went well, I behaved my best.
Then that lass, put me to the test!
Table cleaned off, Dishes on the counter.
Then into the trash, went a quarter pounder!
I was amass, my eyes bugged out,
My face turned red, I began to pout.
“Why’d you do that?” I whispered a scream.
Then I turned, to see the company eyeing me.
“The dog needs to eat,” said with a halfway grin.
But I could see in their eyes, my excuse was thin.
Now you can see, why company stays away.
Cause my pork chop bones, I take very grave.
So if you come, to stay a while.
I’ll meet you at the door, with my prettiest smile.
When dinner comes, and she rings the bell,
Take this to heart, What I have to tell.
We can spin the lies, we can sing the songs,
Just stay away, from my PORK CHOP BONES!!!
Hamp Nichols
Copyright ©
Hamp
... [
2003-10-03 16:05:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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