I used to think I liked the stinking rose
As much as anybody. Then I learned
That there's a festival done just for those
Who worship it, idolatrous. Though spurned
By others, here, in many tongues, its sung
A gaudeamus, danced with, cooked all ways,
And hipstered on, of course, where'er it's hung.
The captions are delightful. Nowadays
When all of us are garlic-fiends, it seems
A thing near-obvious, but check the year;
I do recall bland flavors were the mean
Back then. Les Blank don't miss a trick, no fear!
It's here. A Herzog cameo, as well,
Means there's just one thing missing here: the smell!
No comments:
Post a Comment