Sandy G, 09-30-2005, 08:29 PM
Oh, stunted little cabbages/
From the land of Mannekin Pis/
You make us gag & retch/
You can be sure of this.
Brussels sprout, Brussels sprout!
Throw the nasty rascal out.
Give us pizza, give us meat.
Give us anything that's sweet.
In the evening how I hate
To see you lying on my plate.
You are green and round and wide,
Which makes you very hard to hide.
And so, with milk, I wash you down.
Even then I gag and frown.
Though you're good for me, no doubt.
A pox upon thee, Brussels sprout.
—Grandpa Tucker
Copyright ©1997 by Bob Tucker
wizard_len, 10-02-2005, 10:56 AM
My wife and I are on the outs,
I won't eat and now she pouts,
I'll eat peppers and sauerkrauts,
But I'm not eating brussel sprouts!
I would not eat them by the sea.
I would not eat them in a tree.
I don't like them, don't you see,
Brussel sprouts are not for me.
They're no good fried, they're no good seared,
Those who like them must be weird!
They are good for you, or so I hear,
But as for me, I'll take a beer!
Brussels Sprouts
Catharine Savage Brosman
In drag-foot March, and fastening my coat
against a churlish wind, as I arrive
at the greengrocer's stall I have in mind
Bermuda onions, chard, asparagus,
red peppers, corn-a salad for the eye
and long-stemmed hothouse marvels hastening
the spring in every hue; but daffodils
to mark St. David's Day have frumpy blooms,
carnations wither, and the tulip buds
are February's orphans. As for fruit
and vegetables, the apples look as hard
as wood, and flavorless; my leafy thought
of salads dies. But broccoli is out
in florets, with the kindred cabbages
and Brussels sprouts. Such lowly ancestry
they have, these sprouts, so plain! They could be beads
or dresser knobs, or marbles for a game
with winter, and at thirty-seven pence
a pound are not patrician. Yet their sweet
and minimal design, their modesty,
repeating an idea of round desire
and touched with Cezanne blue, invite conceits
with painted tables, sunshine in the shape
of fruit, a bowl, a porcelain carafe,
or curtains at a window by Matisse
as if in all things green there were a grace
awaiting hand or eye to contemplate
the world transcended in its common ways.
A fruit is a vegetable with looks and money. Plus, if you let fruit rot, it
turns into wine, something Brussels sprouts never do.”
—P. J. O'Rourke
We kids feared many things in those days
- werewolves, dentists, North Koreans, Sunday School-
but they all paled in comparison with Brussels sprouts.”
—Dave Barry, Miami Herald Columnist
Negotiableterms, 09-29-2005, 11:17 PM
Brussels Sprout on plate
The dinner is long over
Alone, they remain
crooner, 09-30-2005, 12:59 AM
But Not For Sprouts (where's the Pepto Bismol?):
They're writing songs of sprouts, but not for me. A asparagus’ above, but not for me
With leaves to lead the way, I found more sprouts of green, than any belgian plate could guarantee. I was a fool to eat and got this way, ah ho alas, and also whatapain
And though I can't dismiss that flavor hard to miss, I guess she's indigested me
It all began so well but what a breath, this is a time a fella needs Colgate.
If every cauliflower ends with a cabbage & sprouts, and there's no spr(out)s for
me
toxcrusadr, 09-30-2005, 11:40 AM
We Are The Brussels Sprouts.
We Will Not Take This Lying Down
We Are Coming For You
09-30-2005, 11:54 AM
there once was a Sprout from Nantucket....
who was taken away in a bucket.
and though prepared,
with loving care,
it tasted like shit anyway.
mhardy, 09-30-2005, 01:03 PM
The plotline of the only episode of "Leave it to Beaver" that I can still remember at this late date was something about the Beave's reticence to eat sprouts...
Until I saw it, I thought it was just me.
kerozene, 09-30-2005, 01:48 PM
A foul taste conceals
Fetid remains of the day
A lone moth alights
mg196, 09-30-2005, 04:59 PM
Green as the pus which leaks from my sores,
Hard as what's behind the Green Door,
It smells so pungent like yesterday's beans,
My dear sprouts of brussels you nauseate me!
toxcrusadr, 09-30-2005, 07:54 PM
There once was a sprout from Brussels
Which had some astounding muscles
It lifted the table,
the chair, and Aunt Mabel
And sucked out all her corpuscles