Steamed Hams But It's An Elizabethan Sonnet
The
entrance of my lord leaves me abashed
But sated soon he’ll
be by luncheon grand
Ye Gods! My special
roast is turned to ash
Yet yonder dive
ignites a cunning plan
(musical break)
My
reckless tongue declares I’ll serve steamed clams
When Chalmers comes
inquiring o’er the smoke
With ostentatious
plating of Steamed Hams
I misdirect
him trying not to choke
My lies
proliferate beneath his gaze
I use my humdrum
manner as a ballast
When
Chalmers sees my kitchen all ablaze
I tell
him it’s Aurora Borealis
Though
Seymour you strike me an offbeat man
I
must declare you steam a damn good ham
Smell you jerks later!
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