Je ne vinaigrette rien

And now dessert is near,
It’s time to pay the final total.
I've tried to slim all year,
But my diets were anecdotal.

I dined 'til I was full,
Then I ate all that's on the menu,
And more, I ate much more than this
At every venue.

Salades vinaigrette, I've had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
Les baguettes, with beef ragout,
Added to each of my dimensions.

Les pommes de terre, the English curse,
I ate enough to need a nurse,
And more, I ate much more than this,
But I ate it my way.

Yes there were meals, I'm sure you've heard,
When chips were served with lemon curd,
But even then, when I got gout,
I never once would spit it out,
I had a ball,
As I swallowed it all,
And I ate it my way.

I've cooked, I've boiled and fried,
I was alone, not my own choosing,
To eat it all, without going outside,
I also drank, my share of boozing.

To think I ate all that,
Even at little stops along the highway.
Oh yes to Little Chefs,
But I ate it my way.

For what is a man, if not what he eats,
Not only the meals, but all of the treats?
To eat the things for which we all crave,
As we edge closer to the grave.
The record shows, I can't see my toes,
‘Cause I ate it my way.

Les pommes de terre, the English curse,
I ate enough to fill a hearse,
And more, I ate much more than this,
But I ate it my way.



© 2011 Gavin Miller. All rights reserved.