Sausage roll rhymes

Pastry is a favourite pastime but poetry is my passion.

My hope is to one day be known as the Byron of butchery or the Shelley of sausage rolls.

Below you’ll find a mix of poems about pastry and politics.

Sausage Rolls Aren't Fancy

Sausage rolls aren’t fancy

Yet sausage rolls are fine

And lately, I’ve been eating baked snacks

All the bloody time

Since going into lockdown

I have struggled to resist

Yet, in the interest of my waist line

I should begin soon to desist

But I fear this plan is flawed

As for restraint I am not famed

Excess is a word much associated

With my name

It’s tough to resist pastry

Even more so seasoned pork

There’s little time I’d happier

Then when it finds my fork

Sausage roll logo

Bank Holiday

There’s little in life sweeter
Than a Bank Holiday
For it affords the chance to spent time
In my preferred way
I could go see the family
Visit a park or zoo
I could undertake exercise
Attempt DIY too

All of the above options
Have merit plain to see
Yet I have firm opinions on
What makes me feel happy
When it comes to spending leisure time
Ideas I do not lack
But above all it is guaranteed
That I’ll hunt sausage snacks

Lockdown

Lockdown took a mighty toll

It put a strain upon my soul

But thankfully I found a snack

That never seemed to flavour lack

That snack was of the flaky kind

But hardly for palets refined

A delicious pastry wrapped treat

Most often full of suspect meat

So if you find your cupboards bare

And tire of Twitter despair

Then take a walk, run or a stroll

And buy yourself a sausage roll

I’m sure your spirits will be lifted

You won’t feel for a moment grifted

And soon enough you will discover

That you’re a newfound baked snack lover

For the love of swine

I’m rather ritualistic

When it comes to what I eat

And always know what day it is

By eating different meat

My wife finds this quite puzzling

For when she returns home

She eats what is convenient

Most often jam with scone

With Saturday upon us

My excitement is on high

For I’ll wander to the butcher shop

To buy myself pork pie

Even in awful weather

I will queue quite patiently

As I love pork and pastry

Rather unashamedly

Yet married to a veggie

This habit surely can’t last

I expect that soon she’ll tell me

‘That pork pie it was your last’

‘Why can’t you adore broccoli?’

She will likely say to me

Swap baked snacks for vegetables

And live more healthily

If faced with this dilemma

I am sure that I’ll feel pain

For loving pork and pastry

Is rooted within my brain

I know l’ll feel conflicted

Because when it comes to swine

I love that tasty animal

As my wife loves red wine

Easter

I just spent four days getting full 

From egg-shaped chocolate treats 

Yet despite sometimes feeling sick 

I still found time for meats 

Thrice this Easter I was stood 

In a new bakery 

Paying with my Monzo card 

For hot tubes of pastry 

Each time I had to stop myself 

From sharing with the staff 

That I’d devised a project 

That I hoped might make them laugh 

I’m sure they wouldn’t care too much 

That I rate sausage rolls 

To help me pass the lockdown days 

Each time I take a stroll 

Great British Cuisine

You could say I’m a connoisseur 

Of Great British cuisine  

Particularly sausage rolls 

The kinds that are not clean 

Unlike new-fangled health fads 

The snacks I like are cheap 

I buy them when they’re filled with pork 

Beef, venison or sheep 

Yet these days people oft obsess 

About food provenance 

And attempting to show intellect 

They often speak nonsense 

Believing that some newfound grain 

Will give eternal youth 

They fly the stuff in from Brazil 

Whilst paying through the roof 

I do not question where my meat 

Began the long journey 

From field to farm then abattoir 

And ending up with me 

I’m trusting that the butcher shop 

Is selling decent grub 

Unlike the stuff in supermarkets 

I have chose to snub 

I know deep down the snacks I love 

Are not filled with choice cuts 

For sausage meat is mostly ground 

From trotters, snouts and guts 

Yet I don’t mind for seasoning 

And butter hide most sins 

Whilst any meat-filled pastry snack 

Is bound to make me grin

 

Few Finer Things

There are few finer things to do 

On any given day 

Than helping to rate sausage rolls 

And passing thoughts my way 

The data that’s collected 

Will be used to make a map 

Of all the finest bakeries 

Selling sausage snacks 

Sausage roll logo

Long Weekend

A long weekend approaching
Affords opportunity
To gorge myself on tasty treats
Bought from the bakery

I know I should be healthy
And instead start rating fruit
For if I carry on like this
I’ll fail to fit my suit

The trouble that I’ve found
Is that pastry is hard to quit
And also that I gain delight
From ratings I submit

It seems for now I must persist
But do so cautiously
Hoping that my next project
Does not involve pastry

Time

Some might suggest my time was wasted

Viewing every snack I tasted

Yet I’m allowed to disagree

And do what makes me feel happy

Approval is not what I seek

Instead, I hope to find the peak

Of pork and pastry quality

Sharing what I’ve found for free

My aim in life is simple

My aim in life is simple
I enjoy rating snacks
Yet I’m fearful that this habit
May lead to a heart attack
 
And so I’ve started running
To balance my intake
Of the greasy treats I like
To buy both and to bake
 
So please do me a favour
And look at my sausage site
Just keep opinions to yourself
If you think that it’s shite
 
It’s been said that I’m touchy
And that I have been known to sulk
Both of which become more true
As I gain sausage bulk

Bad Week

I’m having the kind of week 

That only pork can cure 

But with chaos in the country 

My supply is less than sure 

I worry that the butcher shop 

May well run out of swine 

And I’ll be forced to eat bangers 

That are less than divine 

What happens if there’s suddenly 

A lack of sausage rolls? 

Will the government take steps 

To bring in drivers that are Poles? 

And what of my Christmas lunch 

I wait for all year round? 

Will I be forced to eat something 

That’s grown right from the ground? 

Fresh Perspective

With a love of flaky pastry
Happiness is close at hand
But that is something that some folk
Will never understand
 
A trip to pick up sausage rolls
Can cure most of life’s ills
Indeed, it’s more effective
Than downing booze or pills
 
So get down to your local Greggs
Where pastry is abundant
It’ll help to cure your ennui
When you’re feeling quite redundant
 
Just be sure to let me know
If this new treatment was effective
For in life we could all do
With gaining fresh perspective

Cravings

Pork pies are tasty

And pasties are great

But there’s only one snack

That I want on my plate

Although on my waistline

They take quite the toll

I cannot stop myself 

Craving sausage rolls

January Blues

Sometimes all that’s needed

To send the blues away

Is fresh and flaky pastry

That was baked that very day

 

Yet lately, I’ve been in a mood

That pastry cannot cure

And what to do or where to be

Has left me quite unsure

 

It’s probably due to Covid

That I’m feeling such ennui

But as the world reopens

I will once again be free

 

I know my feelings will soon pass

And I will rediscover

That before, now and always

I remain a baked snack lover

Parties

Could you say it was a party 

If it lacked a sausage roll?

Perhaps it was a gathering

Without both life and soul

These days I might struggle

To attend a jamboree

If I thought this gathering

Required more pastry

Take this as a lesson

If you plan to host a bash

And be sure to purchase pastry

If you hope to make a splash

For any get-together

To have joviality

First you must deliver

Fresh and plentiful pastry

London

Each time I go to London  

I can’t help but get drawn in  

By one of many places  

That are selling beer and gin  
   

The pubs are often busy  

And they’re packed with reprobates  

Drinking on the company card  

Or catching up with mates  
   

There’ll be some coked up bankers  

And some men that work the trade  

And both groups will be scheming  

About money to be made  

  

They may end up in fisticuffs  

Or may just get along  

Ending in warm embrace  

Or singing terrace songs  
 

Outside the public house  

There stands a mountain of a man  

There to lay the smackdown  

If the drinks get out of hand  
   

The bouncer has the look  

Of someone that has killed for kicks  

I’m sure it’s just annoyance  

At dealing with drunken dicks  
   
 

When standing at the bar  

You may feel irritation mounting  

As getting served can often seem  

A task beyond surmounting  
   
  

I know from past experience  

That bar work ain’t the best  

A choice of job that often puts  

Your patience to the test  
   
  

With drinks freshly acquired  

It’s now time to find a perch  

Yet, scouting for a chair  

May end in a fruitless search  
   

You have to arrive early  

If you hope to get a seat  

Or else instead get comfortable  

With standing on your feet  
   
 

You’re bound to hear the convos  

Of the people that are close  

For all too often, drunken speak  

Is honest and verbose  
   
  

But make friends with the strangers  

If they’re drinking all alone  

They may have valid reason 

Why they haven’t left for home  
   
  

The toilets are disgraceful  

But it’s hardly a great shock  

For drunken men are careless  

When they’re standing hand on cock 
   
  

The floors of all pub toilets  

Will be wet and slick with grime  

And lingering too long there 

Is a game most asinine  
 

   

As closing time gets nearer  

It is best to call it quits  

Or risk spending tomorrow  

With your head and guts in bits  
 

   
Be sure to skirt the Doner meat  

And dodge a bag of chips  

For momentary pleasure  

Leads to lifetime on the hips  
   
 

It’s best to make the station  

With plenty of time to kill  

That way you can get cleaned up  

If the drink has made you ill 
   
 

No-one likes a puker  

Once they’re sat down on the train  

Delays to homeward journeys  

Leads to insufferable pain  
   
 

When getting out of London  

Be sure to soak in the calm  

Be glad that you’ve escaped there 

Without doing yourself harm  
   
  

Make sure you offer thanks  

That you have made it through the night  

Just don’t check your bank account  

For it’s bound to give a fright 

Partner

My partner is most dutiful

She likes brings me snacksKnowing that by doing soAttention, she won’t lackMy partner is most beautifulShe often to bring me treatsBecause I have a penchant forPastry encased meatsMy partner sometimes wishesI would show some more restraintUnfortunately, that’s not somethingI’ve yet to acquaintMy partner should be heartenedFor on me she can dependAnd there’s little in relationshipsThat pastry cannot mend

Restraint

It’s been a while since last we spoke  

And plenty has now changed  

Where before were sausage rolls 

Some veggies are exchanged    

 

Since last we spoke, I’ve come to see 

That things got out of hand  

And I was eating more pastry  

Than I had ever planned  

 

And so, I’ve sought to rein it in  

And start to show restraint  

For eating only sausage rolls 

Had left me feeling faint 

 

Instead of pork, I’ve become friends 

With chard and broccoli  

Making of my former ways 

A total mockery 

 

Yet even now, I feel the urge 

To scoff a sausage roll 

And you’d struggle to accuse me still 

Of owning self-control 

 

I suppose if there’s a lesson here 

It’s one of moderation 

And from time to time still giving in  

To pork flavoured temptation 

Pork Scratchings

I’m not a fan of chocolate

For I don’t have a sweet tooth

Instead, I like those crunchy nibbles

Made from snout or hoof

The snacks I like are salty

They are purchased at the pub

And when paired with pints of lager

Are the finest evening grub

Barman

I’m best mates with the barman

For he stocks my favourite snack

I like their porky flavour

For they cause my lips to smack

The treats I like are greasy

They are crispy bits of boar

So brush aside your bar nuts

It is scratchings I adore