Our old ship was sinking, very far from land
No lifeboat or floatation aid, was there close at hand
The radio didn't work, and flares would not ignite
No other vessel could be seen, on this dark and lonely night
It was the cook that saved our souls, a man whose name was Spud
He went into the galley, and made a giant Yorkshire pud!
Four hundred eggs went into it, with seven sacks of flour
The fire in the engine room, cooked it in half an hour
We launched it off the starboard bow, not an easy task
We all climbed inside, as our ship it sank at last
Seven weeks we sailed the high seas, before we saw a ship
We lived on Yorkshire pudding, on our ocean trip
They lifted us out of the pudding, it was quite a scene
We were the fattest survivors, they had ever seen!
I love this Bob. A Yorkshire pud! I learned English Cookery at school and can remember making one. Brilliant imagination and lots of laughs from me! Excellent! Top marks! Karin Anderson
Oh Bob - I am still giggling at this - really this could be made into a cartoon - - I see it in the mind's eye as a cartoon which would be so very funny - - you are a master at this Bob and more than 10 - - from Fay....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
that surely is a rich meal...humor and thrill well blended in this poem