Category: Food

It scares my appetite, this voice
That runs down that on which I feed;
So since there seems to be a choice,
I think I’d rather eat than read.

by Ray Romine Monday, October 2, 1950

There lived a young gourmet at Stow
Who ate at the Smorgasbord so
Much that he busted;
And his friends, disgusted,
Wrote above him: “He couldn’ t say ‘Whoa!'”

by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 4, 1948

It’s not the fancy prices,
Nor surroundings, wrong or right;
It’s all the food I eat, perhaps,
That takes my appetite.

by Ray Romine Friday, August 5, 1949

I order food, and later,
Question, ere he serves it,
Why his name should be waiter
When I’m he who deserves it.

by Ray Romine Sunday, November 5, 1950

Here’s one precept
I can accept–
I’ll aid it and abet it:
“He who has health
Has more than wealth”–
And MILK’S the way to get it!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 10, 1946

Hogs and canines, I am told,
Turn green at what goes in my hold.
Fellow humans enter spasms
At things that soothe my inner chasms.
Do I ply them? No, you see
The less they eat, the more’s for me.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 6, 1949

I’d as leave be surrounded
By Hades’ own hinges
As to swallow confounded
Gulps of oringes.

I’d rather go gaily
From my little group
Than be dieted daily
On nothing but soup.

When I am nice
They fetch a custard,
Or some sort of ice
Resembling mustard.

Or, having surrendered
And played a martyr,
I may be tendered
A sip of wartyr.

Look, Doc–man alive this
Is not to be rude,
But I’ll never survive this
Unless I have food!

by Ray Romine Saturday, February 24, 1945

To hear those who would tell us what
Is fit to eat, most things are not.
What seems so innocent and placid
Will turn itself in time to acid.
The foods I like will put me under,
Or make me , in the end, rotunder.
To me, life has a certain lack
When I must down my coffee black,
And can’t have this and can’t have that,
And run from every automat.
But while the diet may seem dull, sir,
It rather beats a stomach ulcer,
So pooh the steak, ignore the roast-
I’m having one soft egg on toast.

by Ray Romine Sunday, July 16, 1950

Of dieting in general
I take a very dim view;
Lot of bother, starving father
To make a much too slim you.

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 6, 1949

Our national pastime–what is it, if any?
Is it baseball or football that pleases the many,
Or polo or golfing-or tennis or hockey,
Or boxing or watching the horse and the jockey?
And there are still others, but would you believe it–
MY PASTIME is eating, so take it or leave it!

For a hobby you read or you go see a talkie,
Or sleep in your chair if the radio’s squawky;
While some make collections of stamps or old money,
And some gaze at stars; others try to be funny.
But though men go for West and the women for Gable,
MY HOBBIY’S a parking place UNDER A TABLE ! !

For exercise now, do you run or go strolling
Or shoot bow and arrows, or go in for bowling?
There’re some keep their muscles in shape just by talking,
While some ride a horse and let him do the walking.
But I haven’t time for this fussing and fuming–
MY EXERCISE is, for a fact, ALL-CONSUMING!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 4, 1934