Soup Should Be Heralded With A Mellow Horn, Blowing Clear Notes Of Gold Against The Stars; Strange Entrees With A Jangle Of Glass Bars Fantastically Alive With Subtle Scorn; Fish, By A Plopping, Gurgling Rush Of Waters, Clear, Vibrant Waters, Beautifully Austere; Roast, With A Thunder Of Drums To Stun The Ear, A Screaming Fife, A Voice From Ancient Slaughters! Over The Salad Let The Woodwinds Moan; Then The Green Silence Of Many Watercresses; Dessert, A Balalaika, Strummed Alone; Coffee, A Slow, Low Singing No Passion Stresses; Such Are My Thoughts As -- Clang! Crash! Bang! -- I Brood And Gorge The Sticky Mess These Fools Call Food!