We had sauerkraut, and schnitzel, risotto and kebabs,
And some of that Italian bread, that looks like concrete slabs.
We tried every bloody restaurant, and every flaming dish,
We even tried that sushi, but it tasted just like fish!

One week we tried an Irish Place, with 'traditional' décor!
They'd a bike nailed to the ceiling, and a pishpot by the door!
I looked in vain for spuds and steak, but such food was lacking drama
It was “honey-roast medallions of corn-fed Peruvian llama”!

They had potato wedges – they would NEVER call them chips,
All with multi-coloured salads, and guacamole dips!
It took 4 lines of writing to describe one special dish,
I ate it all, I still don't know it if was fowl or fish!
Then we tried a new French place, called the 'A La Carte'
The waiters all looked down their nose, as though you'd let a fart!
They handed me this menu, which was a crying shame,
  For the only bit that I could read was the bloody printer's name!

The writing was all fancy, with long curlicues and stuff,
But there was one word I recognised, amongst all that foreign guff.
L'Escargot was a racehorse, and he was hard to bate,
He might kinda stringy now, but you'd know what's on yer plate!

Well, it seems that my deduction was somewhat was off the rails.
When the waiter brought my order, sure it was a plate of snails!
Now I says to them 'That's bird food, - I'll not beat about the bush'
What the hell d'yis take me for – d'yis think I'm a bloody thrush?
Well, it turns out that they breed them, on special farms, by heck!
How the hell would you get a grip, when you went to wring their neck!
Now it's far from me to pass remarks on others' atein' habits,
But one thing in their favour – they'd be easier caught than rabbits!
Continue Return