with apologies to Sergeant Joyce Kilmer
I think that I shall never eat
A chicken leg that's half so sweet.
Or when my hungry mouth is press'd
Against the chicken's white meat breast;
A thigh that looks to be half chewed,
When appetite has been accrued;
A wing that may in Summer's heat
Be barbecued in manner neat;
Upon a dinner plate it lies;
While Caspian's concerned with flies.
Poems are made for fools to read,
Please pass the beer (or ale or mead.)