Achtung! Question: Poetry: "O Cutlet, My Cutlet" - it's an ode to chicken cutlets, please let me know if good

smurfco

Meatus McPrepuce
O Cutlet! my Cutlet! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Cutlet lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Cutlet! my Cutlet! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Cutlet! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Cutlet does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Cutlet lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
 
It makes me think the poet doesn't know much about chicken farming.
It also has me wondering if the auther even knows what a good grade of tuna is?

Hint: chicken of the sea is just an expression.

th.jpeg-11.jpg
 
Back
Top