It turned out not to be a sonnet:
Bulbs
Garlic! Concoction of the French!
It makes us Anglo-Saxons blench,
Vile vegetable running wild,
The blessed onion’s bastard child,
A night companion of the owl,
It turns your breath and morals foul,
Base bulb odiferous, obscene –
What can those foreign fellows mean?
'Banish your potions and your pills.
One clove of garlic cures all ills.
Take one, take two, take three a day
And keep the Evil One at bay.
Garlic refreshes and renews.
Put garlic in your soups and stews.
Put garlic in your casseroles
And save your shrivelled English souls.'
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