to the tune of 'Goodbye Norma Jean' by Elton John
Goodbye Bourguignon
Though I never made you before
You tasted great and filled me up
For several days on end
I left you out to cool down
And then promptly went off to bed
Twenty-four hours later
Spores may lurk within your broth
And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never able to self-refrigerate
When the heat set in
And I would have liked to have kept you
But I was so stupid
Your toxins grew up long before
Your greatness ever fled
Dumping you was tough
The toughest thing I ever did
I created a soupy superstar
And pain was the price I paid
Even though I knew
Oh, my heart still wanted you
All the websites had to say
Was that you would kill me if I ate you
And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never able to self-refrigerate
When the heat set in
And I would have liked to have kept you
But I was so stupid
Your toxins grew up long before
Your greatness ever fled
Goodbye Bourguignon
Though you never loved me at all
Goodbye Bourguignon
From the young girl in the Palo Alto home
Who sees you as something more than victuals
More than just Frenchified meat stew
And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never able to self-refrigerate
When the heat set in
And I would have liked to have kept you
But I was so stupid
Your toxins grew up long before
Your greatness ever fled
Goodbye Bourguignon
Goodbye Bourguignon
Goodbye
Goodbye Bourguignon
2 comments:
SARAH CYNTHIA SYLVIA STOUT
WOULD NOT TAKE THE GARBAGE OUT
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . .
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . .
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fried and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That it finally touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
"OK, I'll take the garbage out!"
But then, of course, it was too late. . .
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
Shel Silverstein, 1974
Will you post the recipe on Recipe Buddies? I'll respond by adding some other tasty goodies.
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