A Lesson In Cooking Poem by Bob House

Ten years in France, I really should
Appreciate this type of food.
I started young, weaned on baguette
Not ready then for Andouillette.
But since I’ve been here in Les Gets
I’ve had to change, adapt my way

So what’ve you had since you’ve been here?
I mean, between the wine and beer!
No doubt tatties, no doubt cheese
Some type of bacon? Aw, but, please
There’s not much else besides raclette,
Berthoud, fondu, tartiflette
Sic things are fine but spare a thought
For food from Scotland I’d forgot

Mince an’ tatties, porridge, pies
Cemeteries full of flies
Kippers, smokies, stovies, stew,
Tunnocks teacakes, Irn’ Bru
Forfar Bridies, Partan bree,
Both milk and sugar in ma tea,
Puddin’s black white, red in batter,
Fish and chips it disnae matter.

Aye, I’m sick o’ eatin’ cheese
It’s nearly brought me to my knees.
I’ve thought it more than once or twice.
The French should take some good advice.
Their food widnae be sae dire
If they made mair use o’ the deep fat fryer!