I must stop eating Snickers
I can’t fit in my knickers
Have less food on my plate
Won’t moan about my weight
(Jan Allison)
I’m trying a new ‘see food’ diet
I’d recommend that you all try it
Any food will do
Nothing’s bad for you ...
It's no wonder my trousers don’t fit!
(Jan Allison)
I endured burnt offerings at the table -
A meal ‘cooked’ by my mother in law
If I hadn’t been married her lovely son
I’d have walked straight out of the door!
I heaved at every charred mouthful
Smiled, and said the meal was ‘divine’
She told me she’d had cookery lessons
But her food was only fit to feed swine!
Is my poem just a fairy story
Or is it a clever allegory?
(Laura Loo)
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