The Nacreous Oughts

04 November 2005

   Ernest Vincent Wright: When Father Carves the Duck

We all look on with anxious eyes
   When father carves the duck,
And mother almost always sighs
   When father carves the duck.
Then all of us prepare to rise
And hold our bibs before our eyes
And be prepared for some surprise
   When father carves the duck.

He braces up and grabs the fork
   Whene'er he carves the duck,
And won't allow a soul to talk
   Until he's carved the duck.
The fork is jabbed into the sides,
Across the breast the knife he slides,
While every careful person hides
   From flying chips of duck.

The platter's always sure to slip
   When father carves the duck,
And how it makes the dishes skip !
   Potatoes fly amuck !
The squash and cabbage leap in space,
We get some gravy on our face,
And father utters Hindoo grace
   Whene'er he carves a duck.

We then have learned to walk around
   The dining-room and pluck
From off the window-sills and walls
   Our share of father's duck,
While father growls and blows and jaws
And swears the knife was full of flaws,
And mother jeers at him because
   He couldn't carve the duck.

(In: Poems That Live Forever. This is the same Ernest Vincent Wright who wrote Gadsby.)

K. S.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?