I am a fire-eating man
I gobble chillies when I can.
Con carne, vindaloo or phall
It's all the same - I love them all.
How bland tabasco seems to me
I slurp it down as others tea
And I take every chance I get
To flirt with hot Madame Jeanette.
Bonny Scotch Bonnets I adore
So crunchy as I eat them raw.
The sneaky rawit - small but strong
We always seem to get along.
But here's the limit to my hobby -
I simply cannot take wasabi.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem