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Sardines

Updated: Nov 25, 2020

A culinary tour-de-force,  Is sardines and tomato sauce, And once upon a time I was fan.  In point of fact I thought it wise  To stock emergency supplies, So into the Nissan toolbox went a can.

For many months I drove about And never had the toolbox out;  Without a hitch I travelled near and far,  But then, it couldn't be denied  That something horrible had died,  And not beside the road, but in the car !

I searched the Nissan high and low, Wherever wounded snakes might go,  Or where a rat could crawl away to die,  Until at last, in sheer despair,  I saw that toolbox lying there, So thought I'd better give it one last try.

I opened up the metal lid And nearly fainted when I did,  Beneath that pestilential Devil's brew;  An odious, malignant smell, Straight from the rotting bowels of Hell.  (It hit me like a lump of four-by-two.)

That sardine can that I forgot, Was opened up and left to rot;  Punctured by a sharpened tool somehow,  And even though I scrubbed it well,  I couldn't wash away that smell; It lingers in the Nissan even now.

* * *

So if we meet along the track, And should you offer me a snack, I'd gladly share a plate of ham and beans,  Sinkers and jam, wallaby stew,  Or even pan-fried cockatoo, But please, don't try to tempt me with sardines !


©Keith Lethbridge. July 07 2004

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