wonder stuff happy bargains delightful doodads neat grabs – foto by Smith
Was going to blog my latest harvest of headlines from the daily news, but that seemed an awfully heartless and curmudgeonish way to start Thanksgiving Day. So I’ll repost my funny philosophical food poem instead. I was 19 when I wrote it, and it’s now 44 years old. Namaste.
Confessions of a Conservative
Let others munch spare frog’s legs and things
Or their mother’s tidbits so fine.
Not me.
I prefer wee bumblebee wings
With a pipe of blueberry wine.
I’ve no desire for porcupine stew
Aunts coated in chocolate yea thick
Fried crocodile
Ala flayed caribou
Or some other chef’s table trick.
A simple table whenever I dine.
Not mine all these modern cuisines.
I’m quite satisfied with blueberry wine
And old fashioned bumblebee wings.
– Steven B. Smith, 1965
Love Me (Chicken) Tenders – foto by Smith
And I already had a response ready for our next headline blog…. But that’s okay, I like your poem – though now, thanks to you, I’ve got Elton John’s “Elderberry Wine” playing in my head, with a chorus of Fats Domino’s “Blueberry Hill.”