YOUR POEMS This Oriental Stuff

I’m dining Oriental for my lunch again today At a fixed-price scoff-till-drop venue that’s opened up our way; There’s young and old folk gathered there all joining in the feast For this is fast-food fantasy, time hungertide unleashed. The younger ones return again and then again return

It’s amazing all the calories and energy they burn, Ploughing troughs in footsteps to those gondolas of steel, And it really begs the question, is this normal for a meal? Well, we who are much more mature shall rarely scoff our food,

In fact, the concept here displayed to us seems rather rude! We’ll pick and choose a little of the starter we like most Then return a chat line later for some veggie crisp and roast. We’ll have another natter then the pudding’s now in store,

We should dearly love another yet there is no room for more; We’ve eaten but a morsel when the others scoff to drop, More sensible discerning for we know just when to stop. We’ll present our plastic passport when we reach the bar-bound till And instantly our discount is deducted from our bill. And of course, the final bonus, there’s no cooking evening meals, Oh how we more discerning love our Oriental meals. And of course, there is no wash-up, that’s the greatest boon of all, No finer way of dining, well at least, as we recall;

We’ll relax the hours thereafter in our hostelries of choice, We’ll use their lights and heating – what a life! Rejoice, Rejoice! We’ll take a bus ride home again with plastic to the fore, We’ve been dining cheap and cheerful and tomorrow we’ll have more.

And we shan’t be scoffingdropping, we shall all eat just enough

To satisfy our hunger for this Oriental stuff.

Ian Gray Wollaton