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In France farmers grow corn to feed to their livestock, At harvest time they crop it all around the clock, The British nurture a cob with sweetness much better, Consume it themselves hot, smothered in rich butter. English gardens suffer pests including slimy snails, The French add garlic sauce to make them tasty meals, Small boys in England play with tadpoles from the village duck pond, Garçon serve up frog’s legs, of which the Gallic are so fond. Foie gras forces corn down Aquitaine geese’s throats, Free range U.K. birds happily peck up their own oats, Dedicated French duck farmers work for canard, English poultry farmers also work extremely hard. Knacker’s yards in Old Blighty produce meat for dog food, To overcook cheval in modern Gaul is considered to be rude, Hand drawn bitter and real ales, served lukewarm so enjoyed at their best, Chilling European lager wont put hairs on your chest. Little wonder Napoleon plotted to invade the isle to his north, He desired descent fare to savour in his mouth, Today’s English invasion flying south on Ryanair, Bring tasty goodies from the shires in their bags to declare. — Philip Wood |