‘Twas bacon on the slippery stove
Did pop and crackle in its waves;
All crispy in the skillet cove,
And the mouth drooled a wave.
“Beware the jumping grease, my son!
The pops that bite, the oil too hot!
Beware the rushing to your tongue,
The frumious cast-iron shot!”
He took his vorpal fork in hand:
Long time the porcine foe he sought –
So rested he as he spoke to me
Where he stood near the coffee pot.
And in his dad-ish thought he stood,
Some bacon grease, danced o’er the flame,
Came crackling through the spat’la wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal fork went snicker-snack!
He left no wisp, as it was crisp.
He ate, deflecting flack.
“And have I eat the bacon slabs?
Come to my arms, my hungry boy!
There’ll come a day! Callooh! Callay!
When you shall know the joy.
‘Twas bacon on the slippery stove
Did pop and crackle in its waves;
All crispy in the skillet cove,
And the mouth drooled a wave.
With apologies to Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky
Originally published on August 26, 2014.
Photo found at cooking.stackexchange.com and believed to be licensed thru Creative Commons.
