Category: Food

Mary, I sometimes think your eyes
Are brown as the spice on pumpkin pies;
And your hair, unless my eyes have lied,
Is the shade of a round steak rightly fried.

Your cheeks are peaches, paprika-dashed;
Your tears pure claret, spaghetti-lashed.
And your lone, slim self reminds me , too,
Of a deer, gazelle, or maybe gnu.

As you can gather, from all this bleat,
Mary, you’re nice enough to eat!
So , keep your T-bones and your hamburger–
Serve me up a Firstenberger!

P. S. . .
The 64-buck questjon, if you are wary ,
Is, who wrote this , and sent it, Mary????

(written at her mother’s request)

by Ray Romine Tuesday, November 8, 1949

Cornflakes, Pep, and Shredded Wheat-Do
they sound enticing?
I would trade them all for just
One small roll, with icing.

Krumbles, Wheaties, Grape-nut Flakes,
All-bran–all are flourishing:
I will swap them all for food
Even somewhat nourishing.

Breakfast foods are door-mats, or
Maybe something hairier;
I can get the same effect
Nibbling on a terrier.

MORAL:

Beware a food that must be shoved
And advertised, to make it loved!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 15, 1946

I push at the napkin container with care,
And extract shoppers’ bundles from my ribs and hair;
At the holder of menus I gingerly shove.
Why can’t it, like the Specials, hang down from above?
The sugar bowl crowds me, the pepper and salt
Glare balefully at me, but is it my fault,
Who must manage his coffee, utensils and plate
On a spot that is roughly four inches by eight?
But at least my blonde waitress encounters no lie
When I answer her question with “No ROOM for pie!”

by Ray Romine Sunday, March 9, 1952

No time this, for levity or indecision,
The occasion wants tactful and instant precision.
The tray looms; my hostess is slowing for me-
She’s putting That Question: “Coffee or tea?”

by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 13, 1949

My favorite little cafeteria
Is spotlessly without bacteria;
I thus won’t die from germs’ ill-treatment,
Nor, dining there, from overeatment.

by Ray Romine Thursday, April 13, 1950

That I like pie there is no doubt–
Around me long, you’d find it out.
There’s only one kind I won I t eat
To this one I admit defeat–
It’s cherry.

For when I sit me down to eat
I like to think thoughts calm and sweet,
And that there’s pretty hard to do
If on a whopping seed you chew
In cherry.

It slips up on you from bebind
For have you ever tried to find
A seed, sir? No! You hve to bite
Right down on it with all your might–
That’s cherry.

I like for folks to come right out
Instead of going round about
To do me wrong, and that is why
I can’t stand that one kind of pie–
Yes, cherry!

The man who first made cherries grow
Sure did befriend a man I know–
The Dentist!!

by Ray Romine Thursday, January 25, 1934

Like the invitation
Said, “A snack”-
If one had stopped
Three courses back.

by Ray Romine Monday, May 15, 1950

What is tasting so good, at the moment, to lips,
Can require several months to remove from the hips.

(But I, skinny soul–and this doesn’t seem right–
Cannot gain a pound from the tastiest bite!)

by Ray Romine Friday, September 12, 1952

You take a dash of this and that-
You really can’t go wrong;
Then just a touch, and add a pinch,
And beat it about so long.

She’s throwing out this recipe,
Though it’s one mother treasured-
Happiness is not alone
In that it can’t be measured.

by Ray Romine Friday, April 14, 1950

Oh there’s nothing like November,
And you’ll say, perhaps, I’m right,
For to make a fellow healthy
And to whet his appetite.

For with pumpkin pie and cider
And the frost that’s in the air,
It Just makes a fellow feel like
He could eat all day, for fair.

With those wheat cakes in the mornings,
Who can stay in bed past six?
With real butter on ’em sizzling,
That lush smell and sleep don’t mix.

And the last thing in the evening
‘Round the fire, you and the pup
Share a glass of milk and sandwich
Just to wind the whole day up.

Yes, November’s here to please us
With a menu hard to beat–
Which is sure to win her favor
With us folks who LIVE TO EAT!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 10, 1933