(Dedicated to Grif Alexander, in honor of a barrel that came from Green Holly Creek, Patuxent River, Maryland.) TO tell the truth, I really never knew What oysters were, until, one night this week, A barrel came up from Green Holly Creek And Grif set up a supper for the crew. First, on the shell, most glorious to view, Their little sacks, distent and soft and sleek, Dribbled with acid lemon-juice, and eke Bill's home-made ketchup. . . . And then came the stew! A stew, I say, since rhyme must needs be sung, Though, to be factual, the 'valves were panned -- And then, the Colonel's gorgeous bowl of punch. O zesty broth, serene upon the tongue, And ginger cookies, baked by Jim's wife's hand, The night Grif broached that barrel for the bunch! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OMNIPRESENCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BABY'S SHOES by WILLIAM COX BENNETT THE TRAVELLER AT THE SOURCE OF THE NILE by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS A SONG TO MITHRAS by RUDYARD KIPLING PENTUCKET [AUGUST 29, 1708] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 11. TO THE COUNTRY GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND by MARK AKENSIDE |