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Simple TastesI'm searching my supermarket Though I know it's a waste, Looking for pickled onions with That special home made taste; Like those that Granny Barker made Firm and plump, white and nice Floating in their vinegar with Small gherkin and pickling spice. Granny Barker had a talent For pickling then just right. I can still recall the tang Of that very first bite When the jar was freshly opened And declared just ready to eat, Labelled with Granny's copperplate Thin and spidery but black and neat. Brother Barry told me, and he's Never been known to lie, They tasted even better with Granny's sparrow pie. Thank the lord that's one of her treats I don't ever recall being offered to eat! Vote for this poem
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