'You are what you eat' - if that's true,
Those among us neglecting to moo
who've eaten but cow
yet neigh-forth, somehow
Ate Dobbin and shoed Ermintrude.


I doubt that the Frenchies much care
If their burgers are dodgy as fare:
They'll eat frog legs and snails
(Perchance puppy-dogs' tails) -
So what if their Big Mac's all mare?


If you venture to eat in Saigon,
Don't ask if The Special has gone -
If it has you'll soon see
Just how quickly can be
Something knocked-up from croc, bat and swan.

The frog told the waiter, "Oh my!
Your kitchen, I fear, is a sty!
For God bless my soul,
If you look in my bowl
You'll see there's a soup on my fly!"

John,

"An epicure dining at Crewe"

At least, that was how I learned it in 5th grade, circa 1961.
I think it was in the "Arrow Book of Funny Poems"

Right after a wearying session
A worker might make this confession:
“I could just eat a horse!”
You should know that, of course,
He parrots a well-known expression.

"Waiter," I said, "if you please,
What's this substance that's coating my cheese?"
Before he replied
I heard from inside
The kitchen as somebody sneezed.

In my soup, at a restaurant in Fife,
Was a fly swimming hard for its life.
Cried the waiter, dismayed,
“A mistake has been made!”
As he ran to get one for my wife.

Said one restaurant fly to another
“They feed you quite well here, my brother;
But don’t touch the soup;
It’s unspeakable gloop,
And it’s poisoned my father and mother.”

We've dug up Crookback Dick, and I fear
He is terribly bony, poor dear.
He once offered, of course,
His whole realm for a horse,
So let's feed him meatballs from Ikea.

A foodie cried out: 'This terrine
Contains traces of horse. That's obscene!
I need to be sure
What I'm eating is pure
Unadulterate true Soylent Green!'

Though some people say that a nag is
A food that can choke us and gag us,
I like to be sure
That my horsemeat is pure
And not tainted by traces of haggis.

Adulteration !!
 

First horsemeat in the beef in the UK, then more of the same in Sweden,
and now this...

"Beer lovers across the U.S. have accused Anheuser-Busch of watering down its Budweiser, Michelob and other brands, in class-action suits seeking millions in damages.

The suits, filed in Pennsylvania, California and other states, claim consumers have been cheated out of the alcohol content stated on labels. Budweiser and Michelob each boast of being 5 percent alcohol, while some "light" versions are said to be just over 4 percent.

The lawsuits are based on information from former employees at the company's 13 U.S. breweries, some in high-level plant positions, according to lead lawyer Josh Boxer of San Rafael, Calif.

"Our information comes from former employees at Anheuser-Busch, who have informed us that as a matter of corporate practice, all of their products mentioned (in the lawsuit) are watered down," Boxer said. "It's a simple cost-saving measure, and it's very significant."

The excess water is added just before bottling and cuts the stated alcohol content by 3 percent to 8 percent, he said.

Anheuser-Busch InBev called the claims "groundless" and said its beers fully comply with labeling laws."

Is nothing sacred?

Perhaps she likes Beethoven Overtures.

Perhaps she does. Which is what I said really.

O Treachery!

Said banqueting Banquo, “Oh fie!
Why does he get the soup with the eye
of newt, adder, haddock,
Tartar tongue, paddock,
good flea, ants, and fly, fly, fly, fly?”

A new light on an old joke! Congratulations, Orwn.

Thank you, John. I do hope everyone catches the homophonous pun in the last line.

Well, not everybody has actually READ Macbeth.

Said banqueting Banquo, “Oh fie!
Why does he get the soup with the eye
of newt, adder, haddock,
Tartar tongue, paddock,
good flea, ants, and fly, fly, fly, fly?”

Said Macbeth, “This isn’t a dower house!
I’m the boss of this regicide powerhouse.”
Said his wife with dismay,
“My dear Banquo, you say
That your son’s in the soup? What, in our house?”

This could be a competition in itself. Nice one, Brian.

When he flies from his murderers Fleance
Puts the thane’s evil scheme in abeyance.
Poor old Banquo’s deceased
And transforms that night’s feast
Into some kind of nightmarish séance.

The testimony of a factory meat-machine-minder..
 

They told me to pour it in steady,
The beef-mix the mincer made ready.
But I looked at the swill
As it swirled (as it will)
And I thought that I noticed a Neddy.

My lord, new here I'd missed this section until now, which was essentially the terrain of Edmund Conti and Norman Ball, over at the Alsop Gazebo poetry website years ago.

I especially like Jerome's second one (Page 1) I can't add anything but my cousin Greg's perfunctory Sunday prayer back when we were kids: good food good meat, good God let's eat.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=c1TEssqdyGw

So much fun, oh them beans.

I sent my limerick with the un-British rhyme (cattle/saddle) to a limerick contest in the Charlotte Observer, and I just found out they'll be running it tomorrow, bless their American ears.

Thanks, Dean, and welcome. I hope Leonora/Vicky likes it too.

Congratulations, Roger. I hope you celebrate with an interesting boddle.

:D That last line caps it for me, Brian. Masterful!

A few hundred feet from me as I type lies Piggies Lane. It passes between sides of houses - so no-one actually has it as their address.

Neat, Rob!
I have no problem scanning your 'Parisian or Berliner' (as long as I stress the first syllable of Parisian. Unconventional I know, but it's a limerick). However I do stumble at the hurdle of 'human' (unless I quickly and lightly canter over 'The' then make Equidae 'ek-WHY-day' rather than 'EK-wih-dee' - a manoeuvre which I admit doesn't come easily to me!)
Might 'The Equids' be served up in place of 'The Equidae', or alternatively 'as their food sources' replace 'as human food sources'? Dropping one syllable from that line helps me, at least..

5 more
 

Chicken nuggets mean gold in the bank
That allows their producers to swank;
But it’s working-class health
Sacrificed to their wealth -
The food system stinks, being rank.


Colouring Books used to be
An innocent pastime for me;
Now, an adult, I look
In my Colouring Book
To check up on additives, E.


This food-faking trick’s grown in power:
It once was just sawdust in flour;
Now there’s horse, sold as beef
By some galloping thief -
The problem gets worse by the hour!


Adulteration is disgusting!
Food industry? Greedy and lusting
To turn a quick buck
By purveying us muck -
Or instead of steak sirloin, rank mustang!


‘Pink Slime’: bits, ground-up, once off-cast,
Had Oliver (Jamie) aghast:
He said “I’m no prude,
But this just ain’t real food –
It’s unfit for a human repast!”

OK, this doesn't quite obey the rukes of limericks, and it's not quite on-topic, but it was fun.

Ptarmigan Pie

We sat down to dinner with relish;
Outside, it was chilly and foggy.
The weather was dry,
But the Ptarmigan pie
Was quite inexplicably soggy.

It stuck to our teeth like a pudding;
It should have been wonderfully crusty.
The sauce in the dish
Had an odour of fish
And it tasted alarmingly musty.

For a while, we attempted to eat it;
We tried to pretend it was pheasant,
Which could explain why
It was niffy and high,
But in vain; it was just as unpleasant.

We offered the pie to our Persian,
But she wouldn’t touch it, would Hetty,
And nor would Mohammet,
Our mongrel - so, dammit,
We opened a tin of spaghetti.