Fudge

Please...pass me that plate,
With the chocolate, brown fudge.
So I can receive service,
Without any grudge.

For it is caught up in nuts,
And mixed with thick cream.
It resembles the rock road,
Down by the stream.

O how I like it,
With my fingers...I dibble.
From a plate here before me,
I take little nibbles.

There are some who count calories,
But that...don't you see?
Would cause so much trouble,
With the brown-fudge and me.

Please...pass me that plate,
And don't feel a grudge.
For O...I am yearning,
For a piece of brown fudge.


E.P. 1908 -1989