A Sonnet on Oysters
To tell the truth, I really never knew
What oysters were, until, one night this week,
A barrel came up from Green Holly Creek
And Grif set up a supper for the crew.
First, on the shell, most glorious to view,
Their little sacks, distent and soft and sleek,
Dribbled with acid lemon-juice, and eke
Bill's home-made ketchup.... And then came the stew!
A stew, I say, since rhyme must needs be sung,
Though, to be factual, the 'valves were panned —
And then, the Colonel's gorgeous bowl of punch.
O zesty broth, serene upon the tongue,
And ginger cookies, baked by Jim's wife's hand,
The night Grif broached that barrel for the bunch!
What oysters were, until, one night this week,
A barrel came up from Green Holly Creek
And Grif set up a supper for the crew.
First, on the shell, most glorious to view,
Their little sacks, distent and soft and sleek,
Dribbled with acid lemon-juice, and eke
Bill's home-made ketchup.... And then came the stew!
A stew, I say, since rhyme must needs be sung,
Though, to be factual, the 'valves were panned —
And then, the Colonel's gorgeous bowl of punch.
O zesty broth, serene upon the tongue,
And ginger cookies, baked by Jim's wife's hand,
The night Grif broached that barrel for the bunch!
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