2. Frying Tonight
Fish chip and mushy pea suppers
Newspaper vinegar drips
A shower of dark brown malt liquid
Helps salt crystals stick to your chips
The smell is a stunning reminder
Of many an outing since gone
When fish chip and mushy pea suppers
Were quickly devoured every one
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Related quotes
Down the Chippy
Tasty chips sizzling away
an aroma that can't be beat
'Salt and Vinegar Sir? '
what a tasty treat.
When we were little kids
going to the chippy was a delight
Fish n Chips once a week
usually on a Saturday Night.
The Chippy was on our road
you could smell Fish in the air
'can we have a bag of Scratchings'
a bit of spare Cod if we dare.
The Fish and Chip shop
as British as cups of Teas
who can resist a bag of chips
and some nice Mushy Peas?
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And Mushy peas for J.T.Ellison
A fragrance carried on the breeze
which sets my saliva to flow.
Aroma guaranteed to please.
The finest fast food that I know.
Traditional English fish and chips
served up with salt and vinegar.
The smell can make me lick my lips
although I smell it from afar.
Kebabs, Chinese and Pizzas too
appeal to some but not to me.
There’s only fish and chip will do
To suit my mood adequately
Fine English food for Englishmen
I can enjoy time and again.
14-May-08
http.blog.myspace. com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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If I were to play somebody who ran a fish and chip shop, I would not work in a fish and chip shop for three months. Staring at chips is not going to help me in my performance.
quote by Ben Kingsley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mushy Peas
Minty green and mean,
Mushy pea clean.
Add to the plate,
Of your best mate.
Mushy peas and chips,
Raised to the lips.
Believe me when I say,
A sensation so intense,
Will leave you, in suspense.
Mushy peas
Minty green, yet supreme.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Bee In My Bonnet
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I got a hole in my shoe
And my toes are getting colder
I got ants in my pants
I got fries in my thighs
I got a bone in my nose
I got frit in my ass
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I got a flee in my ear
I wear my heart on my sleeve
I got a ticket for the train
And I'm ready to leave
I got a rockin' pneumonia
and the boogie woogie flu
I got the palpations
All because of you
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I'm burning, with love
I got my fish on the line
I got my hand in the water
I know right from wrong
So I do what I oughta
I laugh in the day
I cry in the night
Woo hoo baby
Gonna be alright
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
I got a bee in my bonnet
Got a chip on my shoulder
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish ‘n Chips - Food of Life
Oh how I crave for fish ‘n chips:
Our fine cuisine of world renown.
I dined on such a subtle dish
When QEII received her crown.
Oh how I need some fish ‘n chips;
I'll queue in pouring rain or snow!
What better way to warm my hands,
As soggy chips make fingers glow.
We Brits are famed for culinary finesse,
Like steak ‘n kidney pud no less;
Wondrous tripe; cottage pie;
Bangers and egg in lard to fry!
But fish ‘n chips - the crowning glory -
A dish to trounce the great kebab!
You think I care for chicken masala?
It's cod and chips that grow my flab.
Oh how I yearn for fish ‘n chips,
All poshly wrapped in the Daily Star,
Then caked and drowned in salt ‘n vinegar -
And stinking out my brand new car!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Food food food food food food food of life
Food food food food food food food of life
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Chip Chip Chip Away
You want to come on the ranch,
And do a bit of hi-dee-hey.
You come expecting everyone to do,
What it is you say, yo!
You want to feel you're the boss,
At any cost without delay.
But you aint giving any bucks...
To anyone with an up in pay!
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in.
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in, yo!
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in.
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in!
You want to come on the ranch,
And do a bit of hi-dee-hey.
You come expecting everyone to do,
What it is you say, yo!
You want to feel you're the boss,
At any cost without delay.
But you aint giving any bucks...
To anyone with an up in pay!
Without delay...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in,
Without delay...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in, yo.
Today...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in,
Without delay...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in, yo.
You want to come on the ranch,
And do a bit of hi-dee-hey.
You come expecting everyone to do,
What it is you say, yo!
You want to feel you're the boss,
At any cost without delay.
But you aint giving any bucks...
To anyone with an up in pay!
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in.
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in, yo!
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in.
You need to chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in!
Without delay...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in,
Without delay...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in, yo.
Today...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in,
Without delay...
Chip chip chip away some of that cement you're in, yo.
And do it,
Today!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Axeman
High on the hills, where the tall trees grow,
There lives an axeman that 1 know.
From his little hut by a ferny creek,
Day after day, week after week,
He goes each morn with his shining axe,
Trudging along by the forest tracks;
And he chops and he chops till the daylight goes
High on the hills, where the blue-gum grows.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
There's a log to move and a branch to lop.
Now to the felling! His sharp axe bites
Into a tree on the forest heights,
And scarce for a breath does the axeman stop-
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Bell-birds watch him; and in the fern
Wallabies listen awhile, and turn
Back through the bracken, and off they hop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . -. Chop!)
Patient and tireless, blow on blow
The axeman swings as the minutes go;
While the echoes ring from the mountain-top.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Round about him the. rabbits play,
Skipping and scampering all the day,
And the sweet young grass by the logs they crop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Crimson parrots above him climb,
The Axeman
Chattering, chattering all the time,
As down from the branches the twigs they drop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! Chop!)
Steadily, surely, on he goes,
Shaking the tree with his mighty blows:
There's never a pause and there's never a stop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Out from the bush beyond is heard
The swaggering song of the butcher-bird
Seeking a joint for his butcher's shop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Deeper and deeper the cut creeps in,
While the parrots shriek with a deafening din,
And the chips fly out with a flip and a flop.
(Chip! Chop! Chip! Chop!)
Yellow robins come flocking round,
Watching the chips as they fall to ground,
Darting to catch the g ubs that drop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
The blows come quicker. The axe~biade hums,
Stand well back, there, before she comes!
Hark! How the splinters crack and pop-
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Listen! Listen! She's creaking now!
Look, high up, at that trembling bough!
Another second, and down she'll smash,
Shaking the earth with a mighty crash;
Look at her! Look at her! (Chip! Chop!
Chip! . . . . . . . .Chip!)
Wee - E - E - E - E - E --
FLOP!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Is it really like fishing?
They say there is many fish in the sea to choose from.
But have you ever gone fishing?
They say do not worry they are like fish you lose one then get a fresh one.
But have you actually gone fishing?
They say you can be picky when fishing your fish.
But have you been in the sea and fished?
They even say some actually smell like fish.
But have you really smelled a fish?
They say there is plenty of fish in the sea.
But have you actually gone and counted the fish in the sea?
They say once you catch that perfect fish, you are bound for a good life.
But have you caught that perfect fish they all speak of?
They say some fish can be beautiful.
But have you seen any beautiful fish?
How can one compare a fish?
They are not alike.
How can one say it is as easy as finding a fish?
It is not a simple task.
How can they say there are so many fish in the sea?
When there are so many fishers who have yet to catch.
Can you really compare life and love to a fish?
The answer is of course not.
You can’t.
Impossible.
Unreal.
Not imaginable.
Unbelievable.
Unrealistic.
A fairy tale.
poem by ReubenJames Rodriguez
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Chip Away The Stone
You act like a primadonna
Playing so hard to get
Sittin so cool and nochalant
Draggin on a cigarette
You keep a wall all around you
Ill get trough one day
I want your love babe
If push comes to shove
Gonna chip that wall away
(chorus)
Chip away
Chip away at the stone
I wont stop til your love is my very own
Chip away
Thats what Im gonna do
Sweet little mama
I wanna get next to you
You stand like a marble statue
Trying to look so hard
All decked out in your antique dress
While the boys all promenade
Even a rock will crumble
If you strike it night and day
If hammer I must
Im gonna get trough your crust
Gonna chip that stone away
(repeat chorus)
Chip it, Im gonna nip it
All night long
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I don't ask for an apology because it's only tomorrow's fish-and-chip paper.
quote by Tracey Emin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Do I Really Need?
upon a dining table
i too, ask myself,
what do i really need?
one fried dried fish
a cup of steamed brown rice
a pinch of salt
five drops of coconut vinegar
a glass of water
and then the much needed
rest for the night
& with you
my bare hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Helen and You and a Bag of Chips
After school
after tea
of bread and jam
a mug of tea
and a slice of cake
you met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
and she was holding
Battered Betty her doll
in her arms
and she said
Betty wanted to come
she gets lonely
stuck at home
ok
you said
as long as she's quiet
and doesn't cry
all the time
she won't
Helen said
does your mum know
you're out?
you asked
of course
Helen replied
but she said
not to be late
or come home
in the dark
you'll be safe
I've got my six-shooter
with me
you said
tapping the toy gun
tucked in the belt
of your jeans
I told Mum
I was with you
and she said ok
I don't think
she'd let me out
otherwise
a train clattered
over the bridge
over head
let's go
you said
and the three of you
walked up and along by
the Trocadero cinema
she talking about
Battered Betty's day
and what Carmody
had said at school
and how he smelt
of B.O. and cabbages
you watched the people
passing along
the New Kent Road
a constant stream
passing back
and forth
and still Helen talked
as you walked
Carmody's just a fink
you said
take no notice
what he says
and she clutched your hand
with her free hand
not clutching the doll
and you both ran
across the road
and stood outside
the Odeon cinema
gazing at the still photos
in the frames
of what film was showing inside
don't fancy that
you said
too much kissing
and women crying
and boring men
what's wrong with kissing?
Helen asked
better than men
shooting guns
or riding horses
over yellow deserts
making women cry
you looked at her
with her large eyes
behind her thick lens glasses
watery as lakes
and her brown hair
plaited into two plaits
sure
you said
how about a bag of chips?
she nodded then said
I've got no money
don't worry my dad
gave me 6d
for polishing his shoes
the other day
you said
ok
she said
and you walked down
towards the Neptune fish shop
and asked for 6d of chips
and the man
with the one eye
scooped chips
into a bag
and you gave him
the money
and Helen sprinkled
salt and vinegar over them
and you both went outside
and stood together
and shared the bag of chips
and each chip tasted
hot and salty
and warmed your insides
and Helen kissed your cheek
with her greasy warm lips
and said
thank you for these
and you said
no problem
anything to please
and you felt
the damp kiss
there on your cheek
and you smiled
to yourself
thinking
I won't wash that off
for a week.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Yellow Tailed Thornbill
I'm a fussy little fellow
In my kilt of glowing yellow;
As about the garden ways I bow and bend.
Many a melody I bring you,
In the soft, gay songs I sing you
With a cheery little grace-note at the end
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, I never miss that grace-note at the end.
Summer into autumn passes,
And among the rippening grasses,
'Mid the midges, goodly provender I gain.
Little for your presence caring,
Confident and greatly daring,
I will charn you with a sudden, sweet refrain
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, a very soft, yet valiant refrain.
When the time has come for nesting,
Our sagacity attesting,
We erect a neat, twin-chambered bow'r of love;
Mother in the nursery sleeping
With the babes, while sentry keeping,
Father has his parlor-bedroom up above
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, it's cosier - and quieter above.
In my kilt of golden yellow
I'm a friendly little fellow,
And my spangled sable crown I proudly bear.
Tho' my way be meek and lowly,
I can capture, win you wholly
If you'll listen to this cheerful little air
'Chip, chip.'
Oh, I'll charm you with my cheerful little air.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Trinculo [sees Caliban]: What have we here? A man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish. He smells like a fish, a very ancient and fish-like smell, a kind of not-of-the-newest poor-john.
line from The Tempest, Act II, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1611)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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D1
despite the noise outside
the exhilaration of the crowd
somehow we manage to remain
as intact
parts of the whole
rejoicing in our silence amidst
the noise of the world
the clumsiness of our outlooks
vis-a-vis the
ineptness of the system
well, what do we really look for?
this is just a short journey
we keep it crisp like a newly fried
fish chip
savoring the taste of our salt
passing time
watching the passage of others
our joys
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I may be only a fish and chip shop lady, but some of these economists need to get their heads out of the textbooks and get a job in the real world. I would not even let one of them handle my grocery shopping.
quote by Pauline Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiny Rhyme
Fish oh! fish
swish a miss
wish on hiss
shush to hush
Push push
oh! fish
flush a blush
fresh 'n' mush
Fish oh! fish
slush the gush
slash in gash
splash the plush
Fish oh! fish
pose to posh
rush a mash
fish oh! gosh!
poem by Mubeen Sadhika
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