Classic Poem

Though Atreus, so the fable runs,
Sliced up and cooked Thyestes' sons,
Caecilius with humaner mind
Plays Atreus with the pumpkin kind;
Hors d'oeuvres of gourd are offered you
And gourd for courses one and two—
Then comes a change? Oh no, you'll see
Some sort of gourd for number three;
Next for dessert—you then may take
Compote of gourd and pumpkin cake,
Insipid it must be confessed,
Although the cook has done his best
With pumpkin puffs and dates like those
So popular in all the shows;
Then the mixed dishes, to one's view
Lentil or beans, are pumpkin too.
Mock mushrooms and mock tunny fin,
Mock rissoles, mock sardines—within
Are merely pumpkin pulp, and though
All flavourings the cook doth know.
Not rue nor any sauce can hide
The fact that they are gourd inside;
Each dish, the greatest like the least,
Is pumpkin! This he calls a feast,
Because he gives you courses many
Which altogether cost one penny.