The following poem was inspired by the pork pie we got from our local butchers. We had to order it and pick it up yesterday and it is a beauty, about the size of a brick and full of meat - we couldn't wait to try it and had both been wondering if we could open it and try it, or whether we had to wait for Christmas. Until I said that we always end up having far to much to eat from Christmas onwards, so we might as well open it and had some for supper.
So the poem is full of 'poetic license' but made us both laugh:
Ode to a Christmas Pork Pie
'Twas the night before, the night before, the night before Christmas
and down where we cook
A pork pie was lurking, I'd had a good look.
It had good crispy pastry and was stuffed full of pork,
And I reckoned I'd tackle it with knife and with fork.
So down to the fridge with my belly a-rumble,
'Till I opened the door ... and my hopes took a tumble.
For there on the plate there were just a few crumbs,
And a smearing of grease and the mark of a thumb,
And a note from my husband with a kiss at the end
Thanking me for the pork pie as money well spent,
'I've saved you for Christmas, you'll stay nice and slim.'
But the pork pie was eaten ... and the eater, 'twas him!
Chris Sempers xmas 2015