Tap tappings on thy tambourine!
Make musics instrumental!
Lift praises to the blessèd bean
Known as the humble lentil!
She's good for the digestive tract;
She won't cause damage dental.
She's easy for to swallow,
And rather ornamental.
Dressed with salt and sautéed leek
She's quite the continental,
Or add a coriander leaf,
This pulse turns oriental.
The lentil's cheap and good for those
Undone in matters rental.
Let no tongue claim this lovely bean's
To purses detrimental.
Some will say that words like these
Are over sentimental.
They'll say the hero of this rime
Is nowt but flatulental.
Such folk are arrant philistines!
I say they're downright mental.
For verily the bean we praise
Is true and good and gentle.
Ask anyone – your dad, your aunt,
Your forebears grandparental –
They'll all affirm the lentil is
A seed quite transendental.
Lentils! Lentils! Rah rah rah!
Lentils! Lentils! La la la!
Lentils! Lentils! Rum pum pum!
Lentils! Lentils! Yum yum yum!
9 comments:
Well, that blows my silly attempt at writing a poem for this gig I'm going to this evening completely out of the water. Mind if I plagiarise this for performance? I'm sure the lentil celebration will go down a treat with the North Fitzroy people.
What are you talking about?! "Racism is naughty" has to be the best thing in verse since John Dryden. (Speshly liked "it's the chosen people that I choose".) But plagiarise away. Please. I'd consider it an honour.
Here is my very humble contribution to the It's Bean Poetry (But What Is It Now?) competition.
The following is set to the tune of O Tanenbaum:
O Kidney Bean! O Kidney Bean!
Your protein we do savour;
O Kidney Bean! O Kidney Bean!
Your protein we do savour;
You taste so good in vege stew
And dried or tinned we purchase you
O Kidney Bean! O Kidney Bean!
Your protein we do savour!
Who knows, this genre might set people's pulses racing.
Nice work, Woolly. I'm thinking of changing my name to Lexicon Haricot. And I intend to name my first born Adzuki Bean.
Long overdue is the eulogising of the Has Bean. I'd do it myself, but I think I'll put it off just a bit longer.
This reminds me of Jean-Paul Sartre's "Bean and Nothingness", wherein an empty lentil jar gives rise to the most profound existential angst.
There is a Bean,
A Certain Bean,
Whose mad exploits of derring do are known to King and Queen;
He's jolly keen,
This Bean, I mean,
Whose name, in case you hadn't guessed, is Nottlesbean!
But can you do the same for a brussels sprout?
- barista
Who me? I dare say I could, but I think Brussel sprouts and I have had enough to do with each other lately.
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