Classic Poem

To his young wife he said:
“Could I
But taste again my
Mother's pie,
I would be willing, quite,
To die.”

They rode out to the
Farm one day,
A week or so with
Ma to stay;
He stowed a whole
Mince pie away.

Now that for which he
Long had sighed
Lay like a lump of
Lead inside
His stomach; he lay
Down and died.

The man who craves youth's
Pies, 'tis true,
If he would eat them and
Not rue,
Should have his boyhood's
Stomach, too.