The Chorley Toast - Praise to the Black Pudding (with apologies to Robbie Burns) - Lancashire Poetry

Heres to such a bonny face

The princess of the pudding race.

Theres no one else to take your place

Curvaceous, black and gleaming.

Let me kiss your slender waist

David Birtwistle

Seductive, hot and steaming.

Now I raise my knife on high

And plunge the blade into the thigh

Watch the spicy juices fly

Oatmel, barley and crappins.

Layered amongst the bacon fries

Mustard mint and trappings.

Some folk dine on Caviar

And some frequent an oyster bar

Nibbling canapes Oh La La.

With faces white and pallid.

Theres no sinew in a jar

When gastronomically challenged.

Black pudding men have tougher skins.

Hewing coal and lifting bins

Driving trucks and steam engines

All without a blemish.

Hard as nails and rivet pins

Heres a plate to relish.

So be upstanding for the Chorley Toast.

Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost

Set before the apostolic Host

Whilst angels would sing.

Laud the feast we love the most

Good health to the Black Pudding