Don't Risk Your Biscuits
Don't risk your biscuits.
Keep those biscuits mystic.
If they're found delicious,
Keep the people licking their lips.
Do not risk those biscuits,
For suggestions or tips.
From others who just want them to be,
Buttered and split!
When you took them out the oven,
You knew then the flavor would...
Bring joy to some.
Like no others had done.
And when they jellied up those biscuits,
With a favorite beverage...
A stirring had begun.
Making your biscuits their number one.
Do not risk those biscuits,
For suggestions or tips.
From others who just want them to be,
Buttered and split!
Eaten and enjoyed.
Making a habit of it!
You can choose and decide,
If you want them addicted!
But...
When you took them out the oven,
You knew then the flavor would...
Bring joy to some.
Like no others had done.
So...
Don't risk your biscuits.
Keep those biscuits mystic.
If they're found delicious,
Keep the people licking their lips.
Knowing only you,
Can do these biscuits like this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Get Your Biscuits In The Oven And Your Buns In The Bed
(Kinky Friedman)
You uppity women I don't understand
Why you gotta go and try to act like a man,
But before you make your weekly visit to the shrink
You'd better occupy the kitchen, liberate the sink.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
That's what I to my baby said,
Women's liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Early every morning you're out on the street
Passing out pamphlets to everyone you meet.
You gave up your Maiden Form for Lent
And now the front of your dress has an air scoop vent.
Every single brakeman that's ever come along
Had a little woman always tellin' him that he's wrong.
Eve said to Adam, ?Here's an apple you horse?
And Delilah defoliated Samson's moss.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
That's what I to my baby said,
Women's liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Mean-hearted harpies are breaking all the laws
Tearing up their girdles and a-burning up their bras,
Now the air is dirty and the sex is clean
And your coffee makes my hair turn green.
So damn emancipated in your mind and your body,
Gonna have to cancel all your lessons in karate.
If you can't love a male chauvinist
You'd better cross me off your shopping list.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
That's what I to my baby said,
Women's liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Your Biscuits In The Oven & Your Buns In The Bed
(kinky friedman)
You uppity women I dont understand
Why you gotta go and try to act like a man,
But before you make your weekly visit to the shrink
Youd better occupy the kitchen, liberate the sink.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
Thats what I to my baby said,
Womens liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Early every morning youre out on the street
Passing out pamphlets to everyone you meet.
You gave up your maiden form for lent
And now the front of your dress has an air scoop vent.
Every single brakeman thats ever come along
Had a little woman always tellin him that hes wrong.
Eve said to adam, heres an apple you horse
And delilah defoliated samsons moss.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
Thats what I to my baby said,
Womens liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
Mean-hearted harpies are breaking all the laws
Tearing up their girdles and a-burning up their bras,
Now the air is dirty and the sex is clean
And your coffee makes my hair turn green.
So damn emancipated in your mind and your body,
Gonna have to cancel all your lessons in karate.
If you cant love a male chauvinist
Youd better cross me off your shopping list.
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed
Thats what I to my baby said,
Womens liberation is a-going to your head,
Get your biscuits in the oven and your buns in the bed.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ineptness
Carry a big stick,
To threaten from a distance.
Send me pictures of it...
To upset me quick,
With visions I'll be hit with it!
But you'll be wrong wrong.
And I'll be long gone!
Foot power...
Zip.
I like buttered biscuits,
Baked and fresh.
Heated from the oven,
And tasting their best!
You can bring that big stick,
To threaten me with it.
But when I've eaten buttered biscuits,
I'm prepared to split.
Humming a song...
With,
Foot power...zip!
Inept.
Foot power,
Zip!
Ineptness.
Foot power zip!
Inept.
Foot power,
Zip!
Ineptness.
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Foot power zip!
'What is this? '
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Foot power zip!
'What is this? '
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Ineptness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Test My Appetite
Some prefer and choose perfection,
To convey ideals...
Promoted to instill.
With a showing of a knowledge...
In a hope that this appeals.
And then there are those,
Who have chosen to be real.
Grounded and solid of sound minds.
To find they are critiqued...
By those of the pretentious kind.
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
In these times,
I will nourish first...
Before rehearsing any refinement,
I've learned from the past.
But today does not work.~
'It is not proper etiquette,
To dip biscuits in stew.'
~Hey...
I am here to eat.
Not to see what others do.
And IF you're looking for a silver spoon.
To eat your stew?
You go and do that.
And my biscuits will be in your stew too!
Go ahead!
Test my appetite!
I dare you.
Leave that stew.
And I'll show you what can be done with it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Biscuits and Bread
Though moulded of the same dough,
were all cast of a different mould,
most rise soft and springy as bread,
other misfits end up as biscuits instead,
yet none wants to be the thing that they were born and bred,
to be,
and it baffles me, the irony,
that though there's time for each,
in any ordinary bakery,
bread soon tries to harden,
and winds up stale instead,
and biscuits crumble, become brittle,
soon as they try to soften,
and be bread.
poem by Kevin Gachuma Waithaka
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bacon Biscuit Blues
Put your biscuits in the oven
Honey, put your buns in bed
I wanna come inside your kitchen
Wanna taste your shortening bread
I want to jump into your skillet
Honey, tickle your home fries
I gotta hambone working fill it
Wont you try it on for size
Uh uh uh uh uh
Baby ask me no questions
Ill tell you no lies
Put your biscuits in the oven
Honey, watch my dumplin
Rise up - early in the morning
Rise up - late at night
Rise up - gotta get me a warning
Rise up - gonna whet your appetite
Gonna shake and bake you honey
I want a catcher in the rye
I wanna sop up all your gravy
From your deep dish apple pie
So open up your menu
I wanna slice your honey dew
I love it honey when you
Do me like you do
Uh uh uh uh uh
And if you ask me no questions
And tell me no lies
Put your biscuits in the oven
Honey, watch my dumplin
Rise up - early in the morning
Rise up - late late late at night
Rise up - giving me no warning
Rise up - gonna wet your appetite
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honey Biscuits And Gravy
My wife and I sat down one day
to honey biscuits and gravy
and when the last of it was on my plate
what did she say to me
She said, 'my dear devoted husband
husband of many years
would you give the last of that breakfast treat
oh would you please, my dear? '
I said, 'my wife, my darling wife
wife of many years
of biscuits and gravy I cannot part'
so with my fork I began to start
But before I could reach the plate
I was stopped by my hungry mate
She said, 'I'll give you silver and gold
all the fortunes yet untold
if you'll give what's on your plate
the still standing honey biscuit and gravy'
I said, 'my dear, darling wife
wife of many a day
nothing short of a great earthquake
can make me part with my plate'
And then she grew desperate
a horrid fiend intemperate, she said
'You'll be the sole head of the estate
for that last serving of biscuits and gravy! '
I said, 'dear, devoted wife
wife of many a day
you don't know that with what you give
so willingly away'
She said, 'a small price, a small price
I eagerly will pay
for that last remaining morsel
left standing on your plate'
So I did the deed, I confess
and now I must say
my wife's head tasted just as good
as honey biscuits and gravy
poem by Kevin Howell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Escorted to the Threshold of Fame
Many have more than been escorted,
To the threshold of fame.
Some visualized this at their births.
Knowing within them,
Fame was the name of the game to claim.
Others want notoriety.
And don't know why they want it.
Not realizing it's much more of a risk...
To have a life flaunted,
With little time to rest.
Or just quietly be alone to reflect and sit.
Many have more than been escorted,
To the threshold of fame.
Some will admit they enjoy the attention.
Others signed to contracts,
Wish they could end them quick.
Knowing it is more than posing for photos.
When so many would rather,
Eat biscuits with syrup.
And lick their lips clean...
Of the bacon fat that drips.
'This is so delicious!
May I have more of it? '
~What about your physique and figure,
To please with 'mystique'...
For your fans? ~
'Please pass me another biscuit.
I will diet when I can.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Scattering Remarks Of Bub's
Wunst I looked our pepper-box lid
An' cut little pie-dough biscuits, I did,
And cooked 'em on our stove one day
When our hired girl she said I may.
_Honey's_ the goodest thing--Oo-_ooh_!
And blackberry-pies is goodest, too!
But wite hot biscuits, ist soakin'-wet
Wiv tree-mullasus, is goodest yet!
Miss Maimie she's my Ma's friend,--an'
She's purtiest girl in all the lan'!--
An' sweetest smile an' voice an' face--
An' eyes ist looks like p'serves tas'e'!
I _ruther_ go to the Circus-show;
But, 'cause my _parunts_ told me so,
I ruther go to the Sund'y School,
'Cause there I learn the goldun rule.
Say, Pa,--what _is_ the goldun rule
'At's allus at the Sund'y School?
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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I can still memory - taste the fresh buttermilk pancakes and hot buttermilk biscuits - both made with lard! - that were cooked on the top, or in the oven, of that ancient iron stove.
quote by Vernon L. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I love cheese and biscuits, the stronger the better.
quote by Eric Bristow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fabric of Corruption
The fabric of corruption,
Is attached and fits...
The frame it has covered,
Like traditions sacred.
And held deep with sentiments.
The comfort of it delights,
The appetite for some.
Who believe the doing of this...
Produces gold with a deceiving tongue.
And leaves a satisfaction,
As good as the sniffing of grandma's biscuits.
It's gets in one's system...
With no getting rid of it.
It is as normal as the licking,
Done by anticipating lips!
And,
Enjoying every bit of it...
Like an addiction meant,
With no attempts to resist!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Canned Peaches
When we got to eat...
We ate spinach, peas and beets,
With sweet canned peaches!
No steak was plated!
But we knew the taste of it,
When mom fixed us cornbread.
And mama said,
Biscuits dripping dumplings...
May be next!
And on Sundays...
We thanked the Lord that week,
We even got fed!
When it came to treats,
We licked the spoon
That dipped those sweet canned peaches!
We loved them more,
Than probably we should.
But they tasted real good!
And on Sundays...
We thanked the Lord that week,
We even got fed!
A love for those canned peaches...
Is 'still' in my head!
When we got to eat...
We ate spinach, peas and beets,
With sweet canned peaches!
No steak was plated!
But we knew the taste of it,
When mom fixed us cornbread.
And mama said,
Biscuits dripping dumplings...
May be next!
But those canned peaches,
By themselves were best!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm never getting too lonely because it's the kind of disease where you might sit in front of the TV with three bags of biscuits, rather than communicate with the world.
quote by Geri Halliwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Call For A Creative Home
A derelict building stands
Windows boarded, gardens overgrown
A gate firmly locked
Keeps the world at distance
Turning the building into a tomb
Of wasted potential
Artists gather looking for a place
A home to share their craft
That they may entertain the world
Spread the love of their art
They are met with stony walls
And the locked gates of a tomb
Those who can make the difference
The holders of the keys
Sit in their well lit, warm offices
Dipping biscuits into cups of tea
Seemingly unready to listen
Or just make a decision
A derelict building stands
Gate locked, windows boarded
The artists gather looking for space
They ask for a helping hand
But those who could help
Sit silently in their offices
Dipping biscuits into tea
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eerily In Need of More Rum and Cokers
Even though its been made clear,
The atmosphere stays eerily in need...
Of more rum,
And cokers.
Although others invited,
Join in to share their preferences.
Gin and tonic has been dropped.
And vodka with pitted olives...
Seem to have stopped,
Being the rage these days.
Beer with chasers of scotch,
Give peppermint schnapps new appeal.
When a numbing done to get drunk,
Gives some a reason to touch...
And feel beyond sober barriers.
'Harold...
Have you met my husband,
Keith? '
And the red wine with beef,
Satisfies over white...
Sipped with fish!
Depending on the 'dish' it is with!
*No I haven't...yet!
Should I?
Why?
What is he in to? *
'I had no idea this was 'pot luck'.
I would have baked a duck.
Or brought fried chicken wings.
May I taste that casserole?
Do you mind passing to me,
That delicious mix of carrots and peas...
Please? '
Even though its been made clear,
The atmosphere stays eerily in need...
Of more rum,
And cokers.
There are some 'cooler' folks...
Preferring sweetened munchies,
Socially!
Leaving rum and cokers,
A special breed of people when they meet.
'I had no idea this was 'pot luck'.
I would have baked a duck.
Or brought fried chicken wings.
May I taste that casserole?
Do you mind passing to me,
That delicious mix of carrots and peas...
Please?
These biscuits!
WHO did these biscuits?
They are wonderful! '
*Those are mine.*
~I am a cooker too, Harold.~
*That's good to know.
That's good to know,
Keith.*
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This really is a merger of equals. I wouldn't have come back to work for anything less than this fantastic opportunity. This lets me combine my two great loves - technology and biscuits.
quote by Lou Gerstner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Acquired Taste
When people start making listening,
Prioritized as their agendas...
Misunderstandings,
Which now have no benefit...
Will then become limited,
To allow a broadened consciousness...
To happen and occur.
'I'm sorry.
That last part about the biscuits and liqueur?
I didn't quite get that.
When you mentioned something about agendas...
With limited mint?
I am sure that has to be an acquired taste.
I can't imagine having an appetite for that at all.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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