oh little piggy, when i see you rolling in the mud and you squeal
i must confess, hungry- i do not feel
but when i see you shaved, paitently waiting for my knife
i am filled with all the joys of life
i will take your belly for confit, your breasts to roll
your hocks for soup, a menu (in my head) starts to unfold
your head for terrine, your leg for ham
your blood for sausage, mise en place i start to plan
you truely are the perfect animal, your heart i hear
will even interchange with ours!
please know little piggy that when i eat of you
it makes me happy like a child
and that is why mr. pig, i will never throw a scrap of you in a bin!!!
love,
chef
No comments:
Post a Comment