A Little Collection of Light Verse

by Scott Emmons
illustrated by Chris Harding


Glorious Food


Food Fight

In China, the land of the lofty pagoda,
Of fanciful dragons, of Yin and of Yang,
The chickens are chopped for traditional dishes
That give them a fresh and agreeable tang.
While off on the opposite side of the globe,
The cuisine is as different as day is from night.
The folks in Kentucky all count themselves lucky.
They're happy to tell you, they do chicken right!
Now nations have warred over power and plunder.
Their quarrels are endless, yet few people know
Of the great epic struggle that sadly erupted
The day Colonel Sanders met General Tso.

The General's chicken was tender and tasty,
With spices that rendered it pleasantly hot.
The Colonel, suspicious of all that was foreign,
Declared it was clearly a Communist plot.
"You can't tell the breast from the gizzard!" he thundered.
"This devious dish has me chilled to the core.
Unchecked, it could weaken our strong moral fiber.
We've got to act quickly. This chicken means war!"
So licking his fingers, he summoned his forces,
Determined to vanquish his villainous foe.
It was East versus West as the warriors gathered
The day Colonel Sanders met General Tso.

The soldiers were marshaled in battle formation.
The General scowled as he sipped at his tea,
Then shouted to Sanders, "You must be deluded!
Your twenty-piece bucket is no match for me!
My army's equipped with the plumpest of pullets,
The zestiest sauces, and rice by the ton!"
"You fool!" yelled the Colonel. "My biscuits alone
Are enough to destroy you. It's gonna be fun!"
And then, in an instant, the battle was raging,
Though none can be certain who struck the first blow.
They darkened the skies with their drumsticks and thighs,
The day Colonel Sanders met General Tso.

They pelted each other with hot, greasy giblets,
And soon they were slinging their side dishes too.
The Colonel confirmed that his food was the faster,
But Tso was a master of Chicken Kung Fu.
They fought till the General ran out of nuggets
And Sanders was down to his last pint of slaw.
"The Chairman," said Tso, "would advise us to bag it."
"All right," said the Colonel. "We'll call it a draw."
And so an uneasy détente was arranged
And remains in effect since that era of woe.
But Lord, we entreat there should be no repeat
Of the day Colonel Sanders met General Tso!

Burgers and Fries

The French have their snails and their Camembert cheese.
Chow Mein is a favorite among the Chinese.
The Brits have their bangers and savory pies,
But Americans go for their burgers and fries!

Burgers and fries! Burgers and fries!
The nation is nourished on burgers and fries!

What words can describe the delightful bouquet
Of a quarter-pound patty of U.S. Grade A,
The crispy green lettuce, the soft, yielding bun,
The tangy tomato caressed by the sun?
It's certainly more than the sum of its parts,
A flavor sensation that's way off the charts,
A combo I constantly praise to the skies,
A juicy, delectable burger and fries!

Burgers and fries! Make mine supersize!
I can't get enough of those burgers and fries!

Now some will contend that it's wrong to eat meat.
They live on their lentils and coarsely-ground wheat.
Now don't get me wrong, but I'm somewhat suspicious
Of those who abstain from a dish so delicious.
For only Al Qaeda and communist spies
Would dare to disparage our burgers and fries!

Burgers and fries! Burgers and fries!
Let's all pledge allegiance to burgers and fries!

Confessions of a Cannibal

Perhaps I'm slightly ghoulish or my mind is out of whack,
But I love the taste of Manwich with a side of Hungry Jack.
I often grab a Big Boy when I'm eating on the go,
But when there's time to linger I prefer a Sloppy Joe.
I snack on Mr. Salty. I'm a Better Crocker fan.
You'll never catch me choosing Jif. I want my Peter Pan!
I'm fond of Mr. Goodbar and I love my Sara Lee.
In fact, I'd like a bite right now. But who's it going to be?

Sonnet on a Greek Salad

Eternal salad! Peerless work of Art,
Surpassing all the tales that Homer sang!
No tragic ode so moves the human heart,
No comic wit aspires to match your tang.
Your ripe tomato nursed in Attic soil,
Cucumber like the brisk Parnassian breeze,
Awash in Kalamata's virgin oil,
Made pungent by a slice of feta cheese!
Oregano and olive lend you flavor,
Likewise the piercing onion, ripe and red,
A feast the very gods themselves would savor,
And then they'd soak your juices up with bread.
Had Orpheus sung a thousand nights and days,
He'd scarcely have begun to sing your praise!


I'm deep in lust with leg of lamb.
My heart's ablaze for country ham.
A hand-tossed round with extra cheese
Will bring me, panting, to my knees.
I burn for fresh filet of sole.
A hot dog makes me lose control.
For French silk pie my passions rage.
Food is the sex of middle age!

Mystery Meat

If it's slimy and it's stringy and it smells a little off,
If it looks as if a starving hog would leave it in his trough,
If its horrifying color makes your stomach start to sicken,
It's a damn good indication that it doesn't taste like chicken!

Copyright Notice:
All written content on this site ©2002-2003 Scott W. Emmons