Tuesday, 8 March 2011

Italian Magpie 56

Fried chops, steak, snags and boiled veggies was 'it' until the Italians, escaping Mussolini, arrived smelling of garlic and no-speaka-de-English. Then it all changed.
They speak English at least as well as I do and hooked me on Italian food, but why can I no longer smell them?

It Must be the Garlic!

Be warned that the garlic we serve,
Might have a down side. I observe;
That people who stank
Are no longer rank.
(It destroyed my olfactory nerve!)

More smelly poems and yarns at Magpie Tales.


  1. Now your nose in neutral, eh?

  2. when it comes to garlic- if you don't join 'em....they stink! Cheers-great post.

  3. Haha - I love garlic -if you can't beat them, join them (we'll all smell garlicky together).

  4. Blame whoever you like Stafford - I love the stuff - plus (theres a bonus?) I have successfully kept vampires at bay for over half a century!!

  5. So great! Both your poem and garlic itself, most definitely. Will share with my husband, whose boss informed him of her hatred for garlic during his employment interview. Myself, I love the smell of garlic!

  6. Excellent poem and astute observation - the breath thing!

    Eons ago (when I was a lass) - smell onion on someones breath and you ran for the hills! I never smell onion breath any more - why?

    Garlic breath - now I am so jealous as (they have eaten my little cloved friend! It is perfume to me! Yum!

    Anna :o]

  7. .. aren't you the sly one? Clicking on the Magpie Tales link after your clever poem takes you to a religious website .. the likes of which I've certainly never seen. Bet you don't frequent them much either?

  8. fun verse..

    perfect rhymes

    remind one lovely garlic eating times,

  9. So true. It's always best if everybody at the dinner table is eating garlic, then nobody will notice!

  10. 'stank and rank' ~~ fun words!


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