The Hottest Thing On The Menu Poem by Hugh Mitchell

I am a fire-eating man
I gobble chillies when I can.
Con carne, vindaloo or phall
It's all the same - I love them all.

How bland tabasco seems to me
I slurp it down as others tea
And I take every chance I get
To flirt with hot Madame Jeanette.

Bonny Scotch Bonnets I adore
So crunchy as I eat them raw.
The sneaky rawit - small but strong
We always seem to get along.

But here's the limit to my hobby -
I simply cannot take wasabi.