This poem is dedicated to all those who grow their own. We've all been there, haven't we?
Courgette
It’s a great life having an allotment,
To get your muscles and sinews to harden -
Your produce can be all fresh and organic,
And you can have your own market garden.
Of course it’s much
more than we can possibly eat,
So there’s loads of it left over, you can bet -
In fact there’s simply too many to use -
Could I possibly offer you a courgette?
There’s so many ways that you can use them:
In a flan, or perhaps in a quiche, if you’re in Surrey,
As vegetable wine, or maybe in salad,
Or chopped up small in a nice curry.
No, really, we’ve got absolute sack-fulls,
And I’d be forever in your debt.
Try them hot-roasted, or thinly toasted,
But, please,
just take a courgette?
You can’t really moan, they’re completely home-grown,
But I’ll admit that one’s turned into a marrow.
You won’t believe your eyes, it’s of magnificent size,
And it completely fills up a barrow!
We can’t keep up with the harvest, you see,
There’s hundreds
of them filling our hut -
All of dubious quality, but such a huge quantity,
You could say that we’re dealing with glut.
We’ve wept and we’ve cried,
We’ve moaned and we’ve sighed:
The recipes we’ve tried, cannot be denied
Some we couldn’t abide,
We’ve even had them fried!
My friend said he’d had some…. but he lied!
Then proceeded to run off and hide,
And his wife shut the door, and pretended he’d died!
Honestly – these critters are lovely as fritters
How persuasive do I have to get?
Go on – you know that you want one -
Just help me out – and have a courgette?
To be honest - the whole patch is over-fruitful:
We’ve got tons of tomatoes, and bundles of beans,
There’s pounds of potatoes, and boxes of beetroot,
We’ve got shed-loads of leeks, and copious carrots,
Plus oodles of onions and pot-loads of peas,
But of all these wonderful veggies,
There’s only one that makes me upset,
So, after all of the seeding and weeding and feeding,
Go on – treat yourself - have a courgette!
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