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The perfect Bivvi

The perfect bivvi will be level and flat

  • ssduncan3

Porridge Pan War

I read Melissa's poem about her porridge pan (previous post). I thought her pan was bit too domesticated, and missed a rich outdoor porridge tradition. I wrote a 'macho' version in response. My attempt to continue the joke.


Porridge Pot

 

I’m a rugged pot

Me and my spurtle

We come from a heroic time

Of reivers, both English and Scot.

Stealing cattle is no crime

Just a pinch of salt, a few oats

Then my brave men ride without reversal

 

I’ve no need to be shiny

My battle scars are plain to see.

I’m fine being grimy

It’s more important to charge – or flee.

I despise those non--stick pans

They cannot burn, or make a crust

Nothing for a real man

They’re cowards who you cannot trust.

 

So when I stand on your induction hob

Porridge bubbling in my iron embrace.

Remember I’m fierce, strong, proud and true

Need to belt a burglar- I’m just the job

Noisy neighbours – they'll soon sob

Little scrotes- I’ll act dead rough.

Treat me right, with respect as due

Then my oats and salt will make you tough.


My poor pan Simon, I feel that your rough outdoorsy type just failed to see the sophistication of my porridge pan. Deep, overly dramatic sigh! I hope that you will enjoy reading Simon's offering. It is very funny (but is it as good as mine!?)




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