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THERE'S NO BEEF ABOUT THIS SAUSAGE NOW
by
Monty Wells

The economic problems
Of our little islands great
And the European Union
Hasn't been much help of late

So it's with the greatest pleasure
This tale I tell to you
Of British drive and 'know-how'
Getting foreign orders through

There's a little farm in Hertfordshire
In fact down Hitchin way
And they grow herbs, all sorts of stuff
They labour night and day

Amalgamated Sage & Thyme
Was their trade name in the past
But modern times use modern words
It's now condensed to AST

The scene now shifts to Hamburg
To the office of a man
Who makes big ,fat pink sausages
As only Germans can

He's chairing a board meeting
With his cronies all around
"Mein friends" he cried "A new taste
In sausage must be found"

A little British salesman
Shyly coughed and said
"Why not put AST herbs in
And cut down on the bread?"

Now the Chairman who remembered
That 'bust up' long ago
And didn't like the British much
Was about to holler "No!"

But the head chef of the factory
With a long and quivering snout
(And quite a nose for business too)
Said "Get your samples out!"

He said to Herr Director
"Now hold on for a bit"
Sniffed parsley, basil, sage and thyme
Then yelled "Mien Gott That' it!

This thyme from Hitcin surely
Will make our sausage number one
Herr Director take my tip
And order fifty ton

The chairman was hard headed
Not easy to impress
He hummed and hawed a little bit
Then changed his vote to "Yes"

The boss down there in Hertfordshire
Said "Well that's Turned out fine
When he read the salesman's e-mail
"AST Hitchin Thyme saves 'Nein"

 
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