Pizza, peas and pan
Which have you got, chauffeur man?
Crook and strenuous track I ride
Just a few pizza for Christmas tide.
Pizza, peas and pan
Which have you blue collar man?
Crunchy pencil and paper and pen, no ink
To enlist crunches for shopping next week.
Pizza, peas and pan
Which can you offer old man
Handless pots, hoes for blacksmith,
And three white pans for roasted meat.
Pizza, peas and pan
Could you help O’ peasant man?
Meadow stock of peas, grains and milo
And wife’s pan sold to a poor widow.
Pizza, peas or pan
Which could suit my plight chef man?
Scramble pizza, peas and water can
But no match to fire sauce-pan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem