peter (12/09/82)
In all the good Greek of Plato I lack my roastbeef and potato. A better man was Aristotle Pulling steady on the bottle. I dip my hat to Chaucer, Swilling soup from his saucer, And to Master Shakespeare Who wrote big on small beer. The abstemious Wordsworth Subsisted on a curd's-worth, But a slick one was Tennyson, Putting gravy on his venison. What these men had to eat and drink Is what we say and what we think. The influence of Milton Came wry out of Stilton. Sing a song for Percy Shelley, Drowned in pale lemon jelly, And for precious John Keats, Dripping blood of pickled beets. Then there was poor Willie Blake, He foundered on sweet cake. God have mercy on the sinner Who must write with no dinner, No gravy and no grub, No pewter and no pub, No belly and now bowels, Only consonants and vowels. -John Crowe Ransom (1927)