I just want to put something straight
About what should be on your plate,
If it's corned beef you're makin'
You're sadly mistaken,
That isn't what Irishmen ate.
If you ever go over the pond
You'll find it's of bacon they're fond,
All crispy and fried,
With some cabbage beside,
And a big scoop of praties beyond.
Your average Pat was a peasant
Who could not afford beef or pheasant.
On the end of his fork
Was a bit of salt pork,
As a change from potatoes 'twas pleasant.
This custom the Yanks have invented,
Is an error they've never repented,
But bacon's the stuff
That all Irishmen scoff,
With fried cabbage it is supplemented.
So please get it right this St. Paddy's.
Don't feed this old beef to your daddies.
It may be much flasher,
But a simple old rasher,
Is what you should eat with your tatties.
--Frances Shilliday 2004
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2 comments:
To the bit about Irish and beef,
I'm Scottish, and, therefore, no chief,
So this might be true,
I'll give that to you,
But here's where it's causing me grief:
My wife--though she's quite a nice girl--
says corned beef will lead her to hurl
I don't want her to spew
and thus soil the loo
So I won't make her give it a whirl
But then it comes--one day a year
When among all the green and the beer
Her apron adorned,
The beef--my, it's corned!
She proves that she is quite the dear
This custom the Yanks might have started
Who knows--a white lie they imparted
I love, once a year
My beef and my beer
(and also the cabbage I farted)
oh, my!
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