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Poem

There’s a heap o’ satisfaction in a chunk o’ pumpkin pie,
An’ I’m always glad I’m livin’ when the cake is passin’ by;
An’ I guess at every meal-time I’m as happy as can be,
For I like whatever dishes Mother gets for Bud an’ me;
But there’s just one bit of eatin’ which I hold supremely great,
An’ that’s good old bread and gravy when I’ve finished up my plate.
I’ve eaten fancy dishes an’ my mouth has watered, too;
I’ve been at banquet tables an’ I’ve run the good things through;
I’ve had sea food up in Boston, I’ve had pompano down South,
For most everything that’s edible I’ve put into my mouth;
But the finest treat I know of, now I publicly relate,
Is a chunk of bread and gravy when I’ve finished up my plate.
Now the epicures may snicker and the hotel chefs may smile,
But when it comes to eating I don’t hunger much for style;[Pg 39]
For an empty man wants fillin’ an’ you can’t do that with things
Like breast o’ guinea under glass, or curried turkey wings—
You want just plain home cookin’ an’ the chance to sit an’ wait
For a piece o’ bread an’ gravy when you’ve finished up your plate.
Oh, it may be I am common an’ my tastes not much refined,
But the meals which suit my fancy are the good old-fashioned kind,
With the food right on the table an’ the hungry kids about
An’ the mother an’ the father handing all the good things out,
An’ the knowledge in their presence that I needn’t fear to state,
That I’d like some bread an’ gravy when I’ve finished up my plate.

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