Dinner Is Served, Son Poem by Alistair Graham
Dinner Is Served, Son
It takes a lot of time
To hunt and gather
To chop and clean, to boil
To steam and stew
To roast and poach
And then prepare a table
A spread of food laid out
A splendid view
Then you don't take your seat
When the hall bell rings
Your friends pull up outside
And you wave out
You leave the house, your empty stomach with you
Drive up the Gilnahirk Road and out of sight
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4/25/2024 12:10:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
