When it's time to fry the beans, you can't do without lard.
Related quotes
Whoever exchanges some lard for some other lard, one or the other must be rancid.
I like refried beans. That's why I wanna try fried beans, because maybe they're just as good and we're just wasting time. You don't have to fry them again after all.
quote by Mitch Hedberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prepared
dried beans, salt pork,
flour, lard, coffee,
and whiskey...
matches, sharp knife,
a coat, boots, dried dog food.
candles and books...
pull the blanket close,
hold those that you love.
storm clouds, hard lightning,
eyes squinted, lips tight!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Beans Taste Fine
Now a friend of mine, way back in Chicago
You know, he finally made his pile.
Well he got himself a mansion on Butler and Sheff
An' he was livin' in the latest style;
But I run into him, he was eatin' in a greasy spoon
While parkled in front was his big limousine.
I said, 'Buddy, you've got so much money
How come youre in here, eatin' beans?'
An' he said
'After you've been havin' steak for a long time,
Beans, beans taste fine.
An' after you've been drinkin' champagne and brandy
You gonna settle for wine.'
He said 'The world is funny, and people are strange,
And man is a creature of constant change, and
After you've been havin' steak for a long time
Beans, beans taste fine.'
Now, you know I ran into another friend of mine
In a rowdy old Clark Street Bar.
I said, 'Friend, is it true what I heard about you?
I heard you married a beautiful 18-year-old shapely movie star,
Yet here you sit, tryin' to make out with some barfly
Who's too old and ugly to be true.'
He said, 'Shelley, you're still a very young man
So sit down. I'll explain it all to you.
He said
'After you've been havin' steak for a long time
Beans, beans taste fine.
An' after you've been drinkin' champagne and Chivas Regal
You gonna settle for Thunderbird wine.'
He said 'The world is funny, and people are strange,
And man is a creature of constant change, and
After you've been havin' steak for a long time
Beans, beans taste fine.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Jelly Beans
I love my jelly beans
I even love machines
That make my jelly beans
Red, pink, purple, and blue
I will all chew
If only you knew
I'd even eat them out of my shoe
One bean, two beans, three beans, a million
I'd even eat one hundred billion
I'd eat them non stop
I'd eat them right in the candy shop
I'd eat them until my tummy would pop
You can never have to many
I never heard of anyone that didn't have any
People always have plenty
Eat until I don't have anymore
Always wish I had some more...
...Back to my candy drawer
poem by Claude Davis III
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Beans
Beans, beans, beans
Jessie had some beans
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Naked, naked, naked
Sitting cross-legged
Naked, naked, naked
And he was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Wine, wine, wine
Jessie had some wine
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some wine
Beans, beans, beans
Daddy ate some beans
And he drank some wine
And he was happy, happy, happy
As he drank some beans
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why? In loneliness we keep doing things
like lima beans,
loneliness ripens and from its pods
things begin to drop
soundlessly on top of the grass
the season change
and the pods rot and the beans dry in the sun
and gets wet in the rain
and then something sprouts again
another form of lonely lima beans
grow on the soil
loneliness begets loneliness
and forever keeps the cycle
the world knows this
in fact, it is this that keeps it going.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stop
she wants me
to stop spilling the beans
she wants to cook
all of them
with a little salt and seasoning
she begs
that we dine together
and eat all those
jelly beans
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chocolate Factory
he said:
''My business statement is:
fair trade of beans....chocolate beans,
fair trade of kisses between lovers....not only in Valentine day...,
fair trade of chocolate beans like nipples....''
poem by Atef Ayadi
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The Good Lord Is Irish
Twas in a wee little kirk
Nestled deep in the heather
Where leprechauns lurk
mid fog and brash weather
Where wee Father Flanagan stood
Attired in black coat and white collar
Aponderin’ evil and good
E’ twas Five foot two and na’ taller
Aponderin’ the warld’
and to how it might end
And how things might unfarl
When tis gone round the bend
“Oh dear Lard, how twillit be when we go?
Twill all be gone, or will yet some linger? ”
To which the Lard replied in voice soft and low
“suure and I’ll show ye my son, just pull my finger.
poem by David Whalen
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Pork-n-Beans
Pork-n-Beans, a favorite food of any renaissance man
Afterwards, you may want to turn on the exhaust fan
I like them hot as the capital of Sudan
I like them cold straight out of the can
Pork-n-Beans are a culinary delight
Give me great pleasure with each bite
If I could, I'd dine on them every night
Handy for the refrigerator raid at midnight
Pork-n Beans should be kept readily on hand
Nuclear fallout shelter...keep them canned
Zombie attack...snack while making a stand
In-laws visit...for a evening meal unplanned
poem by Charles Hancock
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Where Were You?
where were you when
i needed you?
i spilled some lima beans in my bed
and my wife shall gather them all to me
and i ask her
how many are these beans specifically
it will take her time
i spilled ketsup in my white shirt
and my wife will have to clean it for me
she will wash it
with soap and water and dry it in the sun
it will take her time
so, let me tell you i am thinking of you
while she picks the lima beans and counts them
in specific numbers
so let me tell you that i am thinking of you
when she washes my clothes and make them
all clean for me
so i will look like a decent man
let me tell frankly that i think of you while we make love
you are the bulb lighting in the darkness of my mind
i am so unkind
i am thinking of you
where were you when i needed you?
you are always in my mind.
that is your place, only in my mind
my wife is beside me.
she is concrete love to me.
your place is only in my mind
and you
cannot touch me.
like a cloud you will be here for the meantime
the right wind comes
and drifts you away
and you will no longer be in my mind
i guess things will turn out right
when the right wind comes along.
you are just a blue, ephemeral cloud.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Prefer 'Butter' Beans
What do I contribute to my being tenacious?
A dislike for lima beans.
It seems as if my sister, Mimmie, and I...
Ate them everyday.
And my mother would say to us...
'Be thankful for what you've got.
Some people aren't even eating that.'
To say to us...
Times then were 'meager'.
'So eat and shut up.'
Well,
That was many years ago.
Long before my younger sisters, Tammy and Lisa...
Acquired a craving for those weekly 'Grinder' sandwiches,
Our dad would buy for them.
And they would cling onto them as if they possessed,
Fort Knox.
And Tammy would look at me,
As 'if' I had better not...
Ask for a piece to taste.
She's the one most opionated.
To this very day,
My sister, Mim and I can not stand lima beans!
But...
For some reason,
We prefer 'butter' beans.
And...
You can not tell us,
They are the same thing as those 'limas'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Tastes Like Sugar
Black beans and white beans,
Pine, vine, dine, fine, cine, nine, mine, wine, sine, tine;
But it tastes like sugar!
So don't eat much to run your stomach,
For the confidential reign is all about your hidden love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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In A Can
sitting in my old chair
on the porch breaking
green beans... waiting
on the storm.
wind whips through the trees,
a streak of lightning, occasional
thunder... breaking beans.
thinking about my grandparents,
working down at the mill...
farming, grew four gardens...
cows, pigs, chickens, and
turkeys...
no one ever went hungry
there... no one around them
went hungry...
there was always food to eat,
and work to be done....
but that day has come and gone....
now we work on computers,
or dont work at all....
and most young people think
chickens come from the meat
section... and...
green beans come in a can....
no wonder we're hungry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Remembering Favourite Foods
last night we late cooked
an old time kiwi favourite
yes hot baked beans on
toast with a side of marmite
on toast to keep it company
sweet simple kiwi luxuary
can’t buy my favourite band
Watties Baked Beans legendary
settled for a can of Heinz yes
you guessed it baked beans
in hot tomato sauce with melted
cheese in hot baked beans mixed
I had Sanitarium kiwi Marmite
on toast another kiwi favourite
as my side dish winter dynamite
real kiwi boys palate to excite
it is simple home foods we miss
Sanitarium Weet-Bix favourite
New Zealand's No.1 breakfast
cereal loved by kiwi generations
milk over golden wheat biscuits
with a sprinkling of brown sugar
acquired taste Marmite spectacular
my beloved ETA salt and vinegar
potato chips can’t find here miss
Cadbury Crunchie Bar local star
milk chocolate over a honey comb
center a delicious treat by Cadbury
Brunswick Sardines in soybean
oil or spring water and Canadian
sockeye salmon other favourites
sacrifice living here I really miss
but for a real kiwi smile happy
Watties Baked Beans legendary
spaghetti or beloved baked beans
are my choice “it must be Watties”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Jelly Beans
By the counter of the candy store
several small rumpled heads
are jumping up and down in joy.
They hear the store keeper's tread.
' What do you want? ' is the cry.
The moment he is in sight,
and if their tiny hands are penniless,
How embarrassing the plight.
They eagerly purchase the jelly beans,
They barely get outside
before they open the packages
and have them open wide.
An assortment of jelly beans is enough
to bring forth elated sounds of joy.
Such candy items it takes to please
a small girl or boy.
Oh! Could we all but remember
when the days of youth have fled,
the appreciation in the small things
like jelly beans - green, black, and red.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Beans (Fun Poem 70)
Out of all the vegetables we eat,
beans are the musical of the lot.
They sometimes give out a little squeak
and sometimes a cannon’s roar
or the rat-a-tat-a-tat of a machine-gun flair.
They are known as a wind instruments of the vegetable world.
When they play,
their revelries with a pungent air
there is no denying it
beans are good for you.
They keep your enemies at bay;
sadly, they also keep your friends as well.
Everyone gets out of the way,
when they hear the trumpet play.
27 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Little Tim's Revenge
"Little Tim " was the name of him
Of whom I have to tell;
And he abode on the Western road,
In the busy town of L--.
As trains went down through the little town,
He peddled through the cars
His stock in trade, — iced lemonade,
Cake, peanuts, and cigars.
Conductor Dunn was the only one
Who'd not this trade allow;
And so 'twixt him and little Tim
There always was a row.
At last one day they had a fray;
And Timothy declared
He'd "fix old Dunn, 'as sure's a gun,'"
If both their lives were spared.
So off he went with this intent,
And sold his stock in trade:
His earnings hard he spent for lard,
And started for "the grade."
(This place, you know, is where trains go
Upon the steep hillside,
And where — with lard — it isn't hard
To get up quite a slide.)
He took a stick, and spread it thick,
Remarking with a smile,
"There'll be some fun when Mr. Dunn
Commences to 'strike ile'!"
He lay in wait: the train was late,
And came a-puffing hard,
With heavy load, right up the road
To where he'd spread the lard.
They tried in vain: that fated train
Could not ascend the grade:
The wheels would spin with horrid din
Yet no advance was made.
Then little Tim — 'twas bold in him —
Cried out in accents shrill,
"Remember me, Conductor D.,
When you get up the hill!"
MORAL.
Success in trade is up a grade
That we should all ascend,
And with a will help up the hill
Our fellow-man and friend.
When "on the road," don't incommode
The seeker after pelf,
Or ten to one, like Mr. Dunn,
You'll not get up yourself.
poem by Charles Follen Adams from Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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