Menu de la frowne

Main course

Beef  and mushroom tart with ballads
Eggs in a casket plus free burial
Men’s favourite beef  with deer salad
Green pudding with   cream horns
Ram  au partlette avec  la tarte
Lamb in flurried soap with live vegetables
Beef frumplings in fear of red onions en masse
Eggs died grey with tame rice in cheese-like sauce.
Eggs au Fevered Bible -Classe
Pasta with green grass and layman in olive oil
Pork crustaceans in onion gravy plus flaked potato
Pork pie and Streaming Salad via Amazon Now
Stake and Fiddly Pies plus pease pudding.
Snake quiche with springing onions and roaming radishes.
Plain lasagne with no vegetarian extra.Black pepper and mustard free
Eggs au Coquette with slice my memory
Soup burned and  often mourned
Cheese  pudding  with icing and balls

PUDDINGS

Lime mousse en scene with camera
Ginger mould and Canesten 2%
Blue cheese with automated swearing voice
Photo of  rear plus brandy
Cream  horns  with  whisky
Chocolate moutons
Semolina with Raising Powder [ free batteries[
Rice,Milk and Oven
Nazi remains and gunpowder.

RULES

No  foreigners allowed to  eat cheesecake: with or without blueberries and steam
No British allowed to  mention Horace the Menace
No Germans allowed to translate Wittgenstein into Prussian
No Scots allowed round the corner
Noone allowed to see Kinder Scout until they finish unkind Scout
Noone educated at Oxford allowed to  mention Cambridge
Noone who passed  by a doctoral dissertion  allowed to  go back
Do not  break the law except on Sundays so the police can  have a 1 day week

 

Evoked  death sentences  while still unborn

Oh,mother was it my fault I was born?
You conceived me in a country waging war
So once for sure you did not sleep alone

I was too thin, the doctor was alarmed
My sin of prematurity was scored
Oh,mother was it my fault I was born?

Thank you for your milk, your breast, my home
In sadness wish you’d loved me or adored
Dad  once said  you did not sleep alone

I could not be an infant, was forlorn
While  you weaned me  in my rage I bawled
Oh,mother, why the judgement  of love scorned?

I frightened  you by   reading  minds  and bones
Evoked  death sentences  while still unborn
I’m glad you did not  always sleep alone

Why keep knocking  on the oven door?
Sylvia Plath  used gas ,that Nazi porn
Oh,mother  reason  can’t  prove I was born
But you helped  the human race   and kept some warm

 

 

 

Wreaths of smoke

Daddy where were you  when I was sad
I bought you Woodbines in the corner shop
I carried your boiled egg with salt on plate
You lay in bed   adorned with wreaths of smoke

Uncle Herbert  died when I was five
Not  many   of Dad’s brothers left alive
But Bert was old and all his children grown
He lay inert, the coffin dark, the stone

I saw yours and Grandad’s too, false oak
The  Cemetery   filled  with  men and broken     jokes
So baffled  by affection we  would seek
And for her mother’s  grave, we  often looked

We  too will be broken, wordless earth
Worms will do their work. the lungs, the breath