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CHUTNEY
by
Carol David

The day that our Mother made Chutney -
That's a day I will never forget,
It's been fortythree year in the eating
And we've still ninety jars of it yet.

The vinegar came in a tanker,
The mustard seed came in a sack,
And eight or nine artics from Pickfords
Dumped the twelve ton of apples out t'back.

When she started to boil that Chutney
The 'ole 'ouse o' Chutney did reek,
And even the cat smelt o' Chutney
And went off 'is food for a week.

We 'ad sixteen saucepans full o' Chutney
And it sizzled and pobbled and spat,
It were so strong we 'ad to wear gasmasks,
All of us, including t'cat.

It dissolved all the paint off of ceiling,
It corroded the back of the fridge,
It 'ung in a cloud in t'garden
Where it killed the occasional midge.

We daredn't sleep for fear that the Chutney
From out of its saucepan might creep
And slither upstairs to us bedroom
And strangle us all in us sleep.

At last all the Chutney were ready,
The splutting and hissing could stop,
And every available jamjar
Were Chutney filled up to t' top.

Pretty soon we 'ad run out of jamjars,
Though we'd got seven hundred and two,
So the kettle were filled up wi' Chutney
And the sink, and the washbasin too.

Then finally we plucked up courage.
Intrepidly we took a taste.
The Chutney were - strewth! - pretty awful
But Chutney is too good to waste.

So we thought of a host of good uses
For this pungent, inedible goo -
It filled up t'cracks in t'ceiling
And were super for cleaning t'loo.

And to all of our friends and relations
A dollop o' Chutney were sent,
But each were returned wi' the message,
"We've given up Chutney. For Lent."

Then we tried to dump Chutney in t'Ocean
But folks from Greenpeace came to say
Where pollution's concerned they'd far rather
'Ave nucular waste anyday.

Well. We thought Mum's preserve days were over
And we all sighed great sighs of relief,
For fortythree year chewing Chutney
'Ad fairly dissolved our teeth.

This year we'd a good crop o' gooseberries.
Mum blew dust off old Chutney pan.
Now we're all leaving 'ome on account of
She's starting on gooseberry jam...

 
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