by Judith Mesch
One day I said to young Avrumie
Of all the things that you call Yummy
Which would you most wish in your Tummy?
There’s not so much I think is Crummy,
Avrumie pondered, eating Gummies:
A Pie, a cake some salmon cutlets
A steak, six eggs, a bowl of nutlets;
A slice or two of cheesy Pizza
Or if I’m fleishig, I eat Meatsa.
Then tell me, please,
I asked the youngster
If you were asked to choose amongster
The single food, or snack or morsel
That you could eat course after coursel
The Taam Ganeden, so delightful
You’d smile and sing with every biteful?
Avrumie had his values straight
“I eat whatever’s on my plate.
I don’t care what,” he shook his Kepple
“I eat whatever’s in the Tepple
I like what’s right in front of me
I like the food that I can see
I start with food that’s on the table
And eat as long as I am able
I always eat from left to right
I eat until my pants get tight
Which isn’t until late at night.”
Although not what his mother wishes
It seemed haphazardly nutritious
I wished him well and washed the dishes