Ode to a Pie
May, 14th 2009 05:37 AM

‘Ode to a crazy fool’s Shepherd’s Pie’

Shall I compare thee to a scotch egg?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake from the darling springs of May,

And a 500g serving hath all but too short a date:

Sometime oft I yearn for the wool o’er thy eyes,

And kid is thy fleece me whilst I’m dimm'd;

And every bleat, neigh, bar sometime declines,

By chance or nature's inter-course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal linger shall not fade

Nor lose thou tang of that fayre thou owest;

Nor shall a clean plate brag thou wander'st in its shade,

When eternal fool’s meadow thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

 

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