Today's poem is in the form of a rhyming true story from days of old mom's childhood with an itty bitty kitty
embellishment
embellishment
Once upon on a time on a dark, frosty morn
the Dad of Mom aka Papa got up very early.
He gathered his gear
from far and near he was excited.
Mom asked him are you going fishing
He said no, I'm going frog gigging*.
Gigging made mom giggle.
He promised to return with delicious frogs
upon which the family could feast.
Mom told her dad all the frogs she had seen
were skinny and slimy and for sure they would starve.
Her Dad assured her she would never know she was
eating frog legs.
He would batter them, fry them
and they would taste like chicken. He was sure for them she would beg.
Oh was he wrong, Mom did not beg
she said Dad you'd have to give me a keg to get me to eat that leg.
eating frog legs.
He would batter them, fry them
and they would taste like chicken. He was sure for them she would beg.
Oh was he wrong, Mom did not beg
she said Dad you'd have to give me a keg to get me to eat that leg.
*Gigging is the practice of hunting fish or small game with a gig or similar multi-pronged spear. Commonly harvested wildlife include freshwater suckers, saltwater flounder, and small game, such as frogs. A gig can refer to any long pole which has been tipped with a multi-pronged spear.
No comments:
Post a Comment