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Ronald W. Hull

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Mustard
by Ronald W. Hull

Sunday, July 27, 2003
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Ronald W. Hull
•  Heart Hunting
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           >> View all 686

Number 2 and the end of the series. Thank goodness I don't like condiments ...


Mustard

Mustard on your hot dog,
Mustard on your fries.
Thought it was ketchup,
Twas all a bunch of lies.

Mustard on your shirt sleeve,
Mustard on your lap.
Staining your new shirt like that,
Ought to get a slap.

If you ask for mustard,
Don't say, "Grey Poupon."
Don't say it, that is,
Without your formals on.

Mustard for the Army,
Mustard for the coast.
The Army is a terrible way,
To leave those you hate the most.

Golden mustard in the fields,
Is the farmers' bane.
Mustard greens in the pot,
The poor man can sustain.

Mustard it from the grape vine,
Mustard from the news.
Those who mustard for the Army,
Got a lot to lose.

So if you're in some foreign land,
And see the fields of gold.
Remember those who mustard out,
And didn't live to grow old.

Copyright 2003 © Ronald W. Hull

7/27/03

Photo of mustard fields in Nepal Copyright © Scott Yost, 1994 of vic.com

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Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader) 7/28/2003
Really clever and unique, Ron.
Reviewed by Erica Ivory 7/27/2003
This certainly cut the mustard... Great work!
Reviewed by Ron (sketchman) Axelson 7/27/2003
I love the taste of mustard
on a smoked ham sandwich...
To each his own?
You mustard up a fine write......
Reviewed by June Thompson 7/27/2003
ingenius.. I wouldn't have thought of those mustard it lines- not today anyway..

was waiting for this- wonderfully of course

terrible isn't it.. just cut up pickles- I love the irony of it all

Reviewed by Kate Clifford 7/27/2003
I love the mustard plant, but I hate the taste of mustard. Wonderful write.
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