A Pot Of Irish Frogs

This poem was written Eddie O'Hara and sent to me to add to my frog site. If you would like to see other poems by Eddie, please see http://www.dreamagic.com/poetry/o'hara1.html and http://www.iyway.com/pebbles_frogs_rhymes/willie_rhyme.html .

This poem was illustrated by Roland. You may see Roland's work at http://michelesworld.net/dmm2/frog/drawings.htm and http://wiegran.de/roland.htm. You may click on the images for a larger version.

A Pot Of Irish Frogs


Eddie O'Hara

There was a man who came from France
Who thought he’d like to take a chance
On eating legs of Irish frogs
That croaked out on the Irish bogs

The Frenchman squished the Irish bogs
Until he found a pool of frogs
He filled his bucket to serve his want
Then, squished his way to a restaurant

A chef there said he knew how to cook
Just like they do in a French cookbook
He put the frogs into a pot
But wasn’t ready yet to get them hot

Now, he couldn’t resist to snatch from a shelf
A bottle of his best, as he said to himself
"Oy know what’d be royt to flavour dem up
I’ll add da ohld oyrish whasky, but no more dan a cup"

A minute - and with not a frog left sober
From the pot came a chorus of The Irish Rover!
The chef gasped, "Well, I naver tought I’d aver hear a pot sing!
Da wee folk must have done dis ting!"

He thought he’d take the pot to church for a hymn
Till the frogs leapt onto the pot’s wide brim
They were Irish to the brogue, and their chorus flowed
Through a delightful (slurred) version of The Old Bog Road!

The Frenchman in the kitchen, poking around
Caused a commotion on hearing the sound
He sought to lay blame - he’d assessed it a blunder
And cried to the chef, as loud as thunder

"Monsieur, you have ruined my legs!
With your rocket fuel, that’s no more than dregs!"
The chef in a daze, remained unfazed
In reproaching the Frenchman who was going half crazed

"Our whaskey is known as a ‘good drop’ da world over
From Boston to Shanghai and even Van-coh-ver
But I won’t argue wid ya, because yer a guest
And I’m sure neider will da wee people, who did dis in jest!"

The Frenchman refused to listen at all
Until the chef informed him, he’d cooked for De Gaulle
That must have impressed like a medal of honour
The chef was embraced like there was no tomorrour!

Suddenly, the blunder was a trivial matter
The Frenchman now preferred legs off a platter
He apologized to the chef for making a scene
They drank whiskey together, and the frogs hopped away clean!


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  Page last updated 08 Dec 2004.
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