At the Sunday Night Carvery,
The Special Chicken Treat,
Pay just once at the bar for
As much as you could eat.
He stood there waiting, his
Girth as round as he was tall,
His stomach of distinction
Overhanging his all.
I watched with awe as
He piled high his plate
Closely watched and then copied
By his daughters and his mate.
Then I watched, with respect
Now replacing my former awe,
As all absorbed the food
And returned for more,
No common gluttons these:
They'd stuffed themselves with style,
Jaws rhythmically moving as
Each consumed his own food pile.
Like Wellington at Waterloo
This lot were undefeated
Three plates full each ate
Before they all retreated.
Stomachs to the the fore
Like a fleet under sail,
Each carrying the bulk
Of a newly beached whale,
They left the room together
To go out into the night;
Eat as much as you want
And they'd exercised that right.
I curiously wondered whether
They had a specially strengthened car
Perhaps braced along the floor
With a reinforcing steel bar.
Never before have I seen
Such a family feed;
It was a privilege and pleasure
To see such enthusiastic greed.
