Obituary Poem by john coldwell

It falls to me, I know not why,
To report to you, the death of the pie.
Following a lengthy illness, and sharp decline
I have lost a very dear friend of mine.

Born in hardship and time of need,
Supporter of families with mouths to feed,
It rose to the occasion every time,
Always crusty, always sublime.

A wholesome meal that all could trust,
Even by the upper crust,
Armies have marched on it, and the Navy
Have sailed on it's gravy

But then came a thing to make us slave,
To artificial food, yes the microwave,
And our households have lost the will,
And that most important skill.

The manufacture of the perfect pie.

So shed a tear with me and say goodbye,
To the inimitable meat and potato pie!