Ode to Crisps | A poem about Crisps

I like crisps and crisps like me, which I why I’m 20 stone.
I eat so many of those little fried slices that my chair has started to grone.

I don’t have a favourite in particular;
but I am quite partial to salt and vinegar.

In America they call crisps ‘chips’, it’s printed on the package.
Americans are like me, they have a weight advantage.

Some people think that Wotsits are crisps, but that is quite untrue.
Wotsits are actually maize snacks (but lets not get hung up on the facts).

There used to be a crisp made by Branningans which was flavoured with roast beef and mustard.
And a company from Taiwan once made some flavoured of English custard!

Crisps get a unfair press at times as they’re quite high in fat. Which is exactly why they taste so good to the average human palette.

Some people are boring and eat tofu, kale and hake.
Not me though, no, I don’t do that. I eat crisps, chips and cake.

And as I come to the end of my poem, there’s one last thing to do.
Grab a packet of crisps, turn on the TV and chew, and chew, and chew.



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