Category: Food

The Yankees like their coffee, and
The English love their tea,
But I don’t care for anything,
Which makes a freak of me.

The Germans like some wine with meals,
I’m fond of none of these.
In answer to “What will you drink?”
I answer, “Nothing, please.

“Just serve me spuds and lemon pie,
Some gravy, beans, and meat,
And understand please, if you can,
That when I eat, it’s NEAT!”

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 11, 1951

While silence may be golden,
Scads of trouble, I’ve a hunch,
Is caused by it when wifey asks,
“What shall I cook for lunch?”

by Ray Romine Thursday, February 21, 1952

Pay heed, young ladies: it’s easily seen
“The way to a man’s heart–” doesn’t mean
That the simple, fool-proof way to get us
Is with a concoction served on lettuce.

Your mother was wiser; if you followed her
You’d feed the boy-friend something solider.

by Ray Romine Monday, September 12, 1949

The place where I prefer to dine
Does so immaculately shine
I’ll never die from some germ’s beating
Me to death. Nor overeating…

by Ray Romine Thursday, April 13, 1950

Thus proving, as we dine or sup,
What was never down, can still go up!

by Ray Romine Saturday, July 29, 1950

The table groans like something beaten.
And I, as soon as I have eaten.

by Ray Romine Saturday, October 28, 1950

Among the fancy high-priced foods,
All textured smooth as silk,
There’s none for all our bodies’ needs
That serves as well as milk.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 11, 1946

To me, you show a certain lack
Because you drink your coffee black;
While to you I am quite the droop
For crumbling crackers in my soup.
And both of us knov, one queer chum
Who does peculiar things with rum.
However much accord we’re bleating,
The proof of friendship’s in the eating.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 19, 1950

When I compliment the wife upon
Her cooking without a flaw, it
May come back, “That’s pretty good, John,
But that ain’t the way I thaw it!”

by Ray Romine Wednesday, May 17, 1950

I’ll wine with you and dine with you;
But I’ll ask that you free me
From candle-light. What I’m to bite
Should get, at least, to see me!

by Ray Romine Sunday, January 20, 1952