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No Crab

Whether it's Crab soup,
or whether it's crab cakes,
whether it's crab puffs
or whether it's crab flakes

crab gumbo or crab dressing,
it's all the same to me,
for crab is crab is crab
and I detest the taste.

poem by Ruth Walters
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I Will Play For Gumbo

By: jimmy buffett
I dont smoke I dont shoot smack
But I got a spicy monkey riding on my back
Dont eat beignets too much sugar and dough
But I will play for gumbo
Hey I will play for gumbo
It started in my grandmas in her kitchen by the sea
She warned me when where she told me son the first ones free
It hit me like a rock or some taekwondo
Cause I will play for gumbo
Oh yeah I will play for gumbo
A piece of french bread with which to wipe my bowl
Good for the body, good for the soul
Its a little like religion and a lot like sex
You should never know when youre gonna get it next
At midnight in the quarter or noon in thibodaux
I will play for gumbo
Yes, I will play for gumbo
Im not talking quesadillas or a dozen krispy kremes
Or a pile of caviar thats a rich mans dream
No banana split or filet of pompano
No, I will play for gumbo
Yeah, I will play for gumbo
A piece of french bread with which to wipe my bowl
Good for the body, good for the soul
Its a little like religion and a lot like sex
You should never know when youre gonna get it next
It could be its that sausage or those pretty pink shrimp
Or that popcorn rice that makes me blow up like a blimp
Maybe its that voodoo from marie laveau
But I will play for gumbo
Hey I will play for gumbo
Now the sauce boss makes his cookin on the stage
Singing and a-picking for his nightly wage
Sweating and a frettin from his head to his toe
Playin and swayin with the gumbo
Prayin and buffetin with the gumbo
A piece of french bread with which to wipe my bowl
Good for the body, good for the soul
Its a little like religion and a lot like sex
You should never know when youre gonna get it next
>at midnight in the quarter or noon in thibodaux
I will play for gumbo
Hey I will play for gumbo
I will play for gumbo
I will play for gumbo

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Taste So Good

[intro]
Please play at low volume
Preferably, while having sex
Can I taste you, can I taste you
(yes, you can)
Can I taste your body, girl
(of course you can)
Can I taste you, can I taste you
I just cant wait to
Can I taste you, can I taste you
(of course you can)
Can I taste your body, girl
(yes, you can)
Can I taste you, can I taste you
(oh, dont stop, until I tell you to)
Oh, baby whatcha doing
Got me feining like this
I wanna go to your valley
I wanna taste your lips, oh yeah
Never understood it
All my homies say dont do it
But baby when I tried it
Girl I couldnt help but like it
You taste so good
Baby you taste so good
You know you do girl
You taste so good
Baby do you like it when I taste your love, yeah
You taste so good
Baby, you taste so good
You know that it tastes so good
You taste so good
So good to me, my baby
So good to me, yeah
Sweeter than candy
Making my tongue so happy, oh
Loving down your backside
Girl, wont you take me on a thigh ride
Well go home
We;ll go around when we bounce
Youre giving me so much
Just swing and make you bounce
Your love is so delicious
Baby, I can tell by the smile on your face
Ya dont mind
If I have another taste
You taste so good
Baby, you taste so good
You taste so good
I cant get over this taste I found

[...] Read more

song performed by Next
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tastes So Good

Please play at low volume
Preferably while havin sex
can i taste you can i taste you
(yes you can)
Can i taste your body girl
(of course you can)
Can i taste you can i taste you
I just cant wait to
Can i taste you can i taste you
( of course you can)
Can i taste your body Girl
(yes you can)
can i taste you can i taste you
( oh dont stop until i tell you to)
Oh baby whatcha doin
got me feining like this
I wanna go to your valley
I wanna taste your lips oh yeah
Never understood it
All my homies say dont do it
But baby when i tried it
Girl i couldnt help but like it
You taste so good
baby you tase so good
you know you do girl
you taste so good
Baby do you like it when i taste your love yeah
you taste so good
Baby you taste so good
you know that it tastes so good
you taste so good
so good to me my baby
so good to me yeah
Sweeter than candy
makin my tongue so happy oh
Lovin down your backside
Girl wont you take me on a thigh ride
we'll go home
we'll go areound when we bounce
your givin me so much
just swing and make you bounce
your love is so delicious
baby i can tell by the smile on your face
ya dont mind
if i have another taste
You taste so good
baby you taste so good
you taste so good
I cant get over this taste i found
when i go downtown down

[...] Read more

song performed by Next
Added by Lucian Velea
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Talk Soup

I dated siamese twins
I slept with bigfoot, too
Get me on sally jesse
Put me on donahue
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
My dogs a narcoleptic
My moms a circus freak
I gotta get a spot on
Geraldos show this week
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just an anorexic codependant bingo addict
Stripper born without a chin
And Im only comfortable talking about it
When the whole wide world is listening in
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
My wife ran off with elvis
My boss shaved off my hair
Ive got a thing for poodles
And rubber underwear
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
I had a close encounter
I never chew my food
I got eleven nose jobs
I yodel in the nude
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just a cross-dressin alcoholic neo-nazi
Porno star, as you may have guessed
And Im really gonna feel a whole lot better
If you let me get this thing off my chest
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Im just your average schizophrenic nymphomaniac
Albino go-go dancer, you see
Nothin so bad that I cant share it
With a billion friends on national tv, whoa...
I have no genitalia
I sold my kids for cheese
I love my blow up doll, so
Bring out those cameras, please
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Loving That Taste For The Gutter

If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Or recycled garbage...
Loving that taste for the gutter.

They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.

Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.

They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.

If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Garbage defenders?

Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.

Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,
Loving that taste for the gutter.

They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Soup Of The Day

Well she thinks shes looking so cool
She thinks shes great but shes just a fool
What awful lack of class makes this kind behave this way
I look and only think of one thing to say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Shes thin around the waistline
Thin around the brain
You see this type so many times
Time and time again
How could they really think
Theyd be treated in any other way
Everybodys looking and everybody say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Well youd think theyd know better
That behaving in this way
They think theyre being clever
But I really have to say
Youd better think it over
Youll regret it one fine day
When the circus partys over
And you were just soup of the day
Shes just soup
Soup of the day

song performed by Chris Rea
Added by Lucian Velea
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Manteca

Written by dizzy gillespie and gil fuller
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my shoemouth
Crab in my, crab in my, crab in my shoemouth

song performed by Phish
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sip It As If Kettled

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.
Then grade it,
Homemade.
And...
Savor every flavor that's pursued.
To aid,
Your best to be...
The one who lives your life,
Spiced and energized...
The way you like that's right.
And one of a kind you find!

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.
Then grade it,
Homemade.
And...
Savor every flavor that's pursued.
To aid,
Your best to be...
The one who lives your life,
Spiced and energized...
The way you like that's right.
And one of a kind you find!

Just sip it as if kettled like a soup.
Your life.
Spiced and energized...
The way you like that's right.

And,
Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

And,
Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

Sip it as if kettled like a soup.

Your life.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dressing Up

Going under slowly
It never seems too late
Going under so slow
Dressing up to kiss
Dressing up to touch all this
I'm dressing up to dance all week
I'm dressing up to sleep
Dressing up to kiss
Dressing up to be all this
I could eat your face
I could eat all of you
Oh this night will never let me go...
Going under slowly
Never seems too late
Going under slow
You'll pick me up again

song performed by Cure
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Lost: Book 09

No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death's harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd;
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea's son:

If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem'd chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign'd; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon'd shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall'd feast
Serv'd up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem. Me, of these
Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress'd; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Jambalay (On The Bayou)

JAMBALAYA
Goodbye, Joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh.
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My Yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodaux, Fontaineaux, the place is buzzin',
kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Settle down far from town, get me a pirogue
and I'll catch all the fish in the bayou.
Swap my mon to buy Yvonne what she need-o.
Son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
'cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
son of a gun, we'll have big fun on the bayou.
- Hank Williams

song performed by Hank Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya

(hank hiriam williams)
Good-bye joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh,
Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
cause tonight i'm gonna see ma chère amie-o
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Brother larry!
Fontainaux, thibodaux, the place is buzzin',
People come to see yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style, go hog wild and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
cause tonight i'm gonna see ma chère amie-o
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Sister mary!
Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo
cause tonight i'm gonna see ma chère amie-o
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o,
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun gonna have big fun on the bayou!

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya

Goodbye joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh
Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have good fun on the bayou
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodeaux, fountaineaux, the place is buzzin
Kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Dress in style, go hog wild, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya, a-crawfish pie and-a fillet gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my machez amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-oh
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.

song performed by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya

Music & lyrics : hank williams
Goodbye, joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh.
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou.
My yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil* gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Thibodaux, fontaineaux, the place is buzzin,
Kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen.
Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Settle down far from town, get me a pirogue
And Ill catch all the fish in the bayou.
Swap my mon to buy yvonne what she need-o.
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.
Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and fil gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio.
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo,
Son of a gun, well have big fun on the bayou.

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya

Goodbye joe, me gotta go down the bayou
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou
My yvonne, sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, fontaineaux, the place is buzzin
Hey, an the kinfolk come to see yvonne by the dozen
Well, and-a dress in style, go hog wild an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an a crawfish pie, an a file gumbo
cause tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Well a pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Wanna settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
Gonna catch all the fish in the bayou
Gonna swap my mon, to buy yvonne, what she need-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya, an a crawfish pie, an a file gumbo
cause, tonight Im gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an be gay-o
Son of a gun, were gonna have big fun on the bayou

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jambalaya (On The Bayou)

(Hank Williams)
Goodbye Joe, me gotta go down the bayou
Me gotta go, pole the pirogue down the bayou
My Yvonne, sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an' a crawfish pie an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Thibodaux, Fontaineaux, the place is buzzin'
Hey, an' the kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen
Well, and-a dress in style, go hog wild an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya an' a crawfish pie, an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Well a pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Wanna settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
Gonna catch all the fish in the bayou
Gonna swap my mon, to buy Yvonne, what she need-o
Son of a gun, we gonna have a big fun on the bayou
Well, jambalaya, an' a crawfish pie, an' a fil'e gumbo
'Cause, tonight I'm gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar an' be gay-o
Son of a gun, we're gonna have big fun on the bayou
(Transcribed by ear; corrections requested and welcomed!)

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Goblin Market

MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries-
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries--
All ripe together
In summer weather--
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy;
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
Come buy, come buy."

Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."

[...] Read more

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Soup of day

She said severely:
“God have said: the soup must be warm! ”
It was a Gazpacho, a cold soup to a warm evening.
I have mixed tomatos, cucumbers,
red and green peppers,
red onions, a few garlics,
a few parsleys and coriander.
This soup had a beautiful colour: red and green! green and red!
It was cold, very cold, iced.

I have warmed up her soup
I have grilled also some scallops
with a pistachio dressing
she said:
“It is delightful mostly the orange and red parts.”

It was only a question of colours
I have dreamt at a blue gazpacho, blue scallops
Blue like the sea but the sea is never blue
and the blue is not a tasty colour.

Then we have recited some french poems

This evening was quiet and tender
despite the heat wave.

I like to remember this iced soup
and the awful warmth.

poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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The Bas Bleu: Or, Conversation. Addressed To Mrs. Vesey

VESEY, of Verse the judge and friend,
Awhile my idle strain attend:
Not with the days of early Greece,
I mean to ope my slender piece;
The rare Symposium to proclaim
Which crown'd th' Athenians' social name;
Or how Aspasia's parties shone,
The first Bas-bleu at Athens known;
Where SOCRATES unbending sat,
With ALCIBIADES in chat;
And PERICLES vouchsafed to mix
Taste, wit, and mirth, with politics.
Nor need I stop my tale to show,
At least to readers such as you,
How all that Rome esteem'd polite,
Supp'd with LUCULLUS every night;
LUCULLUS, who, from Pontus come,
Brought conquests, and brought cherries home.
Name but the suppers in th' Appollo,
What classic images will follow!
How wit flew round, while each might take
Conchylia from the Lucrine lake;
And Attic Salt, and Garum Sauce,
And Lettuce from the Isle of Cos;
The first and last from Greece transplanted,
Us'd here--because the rhyme I wanted:
How pheasant's heads, with cost collected,
And Phenicopters' stood neglected,
To laugh at SCIPIO's lucky hit,
POMPEY's bon-mot, or CAESAR's wit!
Intemperance, list'ning to the tale,
Forgot the Mullet growing stale;
And Admiration, balanc'd, hung
'Twixt PEACOCKS' brains, and TULLY's tongue.
I shall not stop to dwell on these,
But be as epic as I please,
And plunge at once in medias res.
To prove that privilege I plead,
I'll quote some Greek I cannot read;
Stunn'd by Authority you yield,
And I, not reason, keep the field.
Long was Society o'er-run
By Whist, that desolating Hun;
Long did Quadrille despotic sit,
That Vandal of colloquial wit;
And Conversation's setting light
Lay half-obscur'd in Gothic night.
At length the mental shades decline,
Colloquial wit begins to shine;
Genius prevails, and Conversation

[...] Read more

poem by Hannah More
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The Hasty Pudding

A POEM IN THREE CANTOS

Canto I

Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurled,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,
I sing not to you. A softer theme I choose,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.
Despise it not, ye bards to terror steeled,
Who hurl your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the stillhouse bring;
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,
The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine,
It's substance mingled, married in with thine,
Shall cool and temper thy superior heat,
And save the pains of blowing while I eat.
Oh! could the smooth, the emblematic song
Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue,
Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime,
And, as they roll in substance, roll in rime,
No more thy awkward unpoetic name
Should shun the muse, or prejudice thy fame;
But rising grateful to the accustomed ear,
All bards should catch it, and all realms revere!
Assist me first with pious toil to trace
Through wrecks of time thy lineage and they race;
Declare what lovely squaw, in days of yore,
(Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore)
First gave thee to the world; her works of fame
Have lived indeed, but lived without a name.
Some tawny Ceres, goddess of her days,
First learned with stones to crack the well-dried maize,
Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower,
In boiling water stir the yellow flour:
The yellow flour, bestrewed and stirred with haste,
Swell in the flood and thickens to a paste,
Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim,
Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim;

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poem by Joel Barlow
Added by Poetry Lover
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