You git!I wandered hungry as a cloud
That floats on high o'er pubs and inns,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of unwashed chaverlings;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Spitting and swearing without fabreeze.
Continuous as the third rate wine
And puddings made of clay,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of insipid gravy:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their sprouts on gravied pants .
The meats beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling roasts in glee:
A carrot could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I grazed—and grazed—but little thought
What shite the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the blight of awful food;
And then my heart with fear fills,
I'd rather feast on old road-kills.
And you!An adaptation of a classic:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of charvers at the tills;
Beside the lake, beneath the tree
The rancid Toby Carvery