An Ode to Pork
Sunday, 07 February 2010 18:34
Another one from the archives.
An Ode to Pork - Super Bowl Sunday Edition (2003)
They eat it for breakfast,
They eat it at brunch,
They eat it for dinner,
They eat it at lunch.
They eat it in Tampa, Oakland,
Even New York.
Boiled, roasted, fried and smoked,
Of what do I speak,
I speak of Pork!
More than the other white meat,
Pork is the healing meat.
The morning after drinking,
Pork can prevent a stomach sinking,
Be it ham, bacon or sausage,
Pork is the meat that prevents booze toss-age.
Greasy and hot,
It soaks up a lot,
Gives you strength,
When you feel shot.
It's not chicken,
It's not veal,
They don't have the power to heal.
Pork is your friend,
To the very end.
Eat enough,
And that's where it will congeal.
Cook it well, cook it with thoroughness,
If you don't,
Well...
There is trichinosis.
Have no fear, though,
For Pork will heal you,
Wherever you go, whatever you do,
Pork will never make you blue.
Unless you choke,
On bone or gristle,
Without a Heimlich
Projectile missile.
This is so very unlikely,
Not even an issue,
Compared with the pleasure,
Of porcine tissue.
Ah, Pork, I could go on all day,
Singing your praises in every way,
Diced or sliced, hocks and chops,
I truly believe your flesh is tops,
The joy you bring, it never stops,
A meal with Pork, it never flops!
I could continue, forever anon,
But the dinner bell's ringing,
The Pork is on!