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A Toast to Garlic
Lying on the board, I do desire thee;
be mine own and I shall cherish thee.
Thou art sweet and savory, delicious.
Wherefore dost thou taste ever so lovely?
Mine eyes, mine nose, mine tongue, enchanted all!
Thou art perfect! Please be mine!
Thou liest in pieces, I do adore thee,
for thou art my match, my mate, my love.
Thou art the best and so unlike the rest.
Wherefore dost thou enchant me, ravish me?
I am e'er thy slave if thou wilt have me.
Thou art perfect! Please be mine!
Others speak ill of thee but they have no sense;
thou art the best, only e'er the best.
Thy caress is alike something divine.
Wherefore didst we deserve something so good?
There is no prize equal nor sweet so nice.
Thou art perfect! Please be mine!
