Oyster Stew Poem by David McLansky
Oyster Stew
Ah, you stingy Miss
With your oyster stew,
Are you serving late
An army crew?
Such a wee wee drop
Within me bowl!
Does your ladle have
A rusted hole?
You starve me with
This brand of nourishment;
Tis this how you give
A man encouragement?
I'm sittin here
At your wooden table,
Ah, give me, lass,
The pot and ladle;
Ah think it strange
For all yer wealth
That I should have to
Serve me self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 11:38:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
