Poem By marvin cheeseman
Crisps, I love them. Crisps, they are the best,
A crunchy consolation, whenever I'm depressed.
Crisps are the real thing, they make me feel exalted,
Be they cheese and onion, chicken, beef,
Or plain old ready salted.
When I eat a bag of crisps I never want to stop,
How I wish the manufacturers would fill them to the top.
Crisps are delicious, crisps are sublime,
If crisps were illegal I'd end up doing time,
And if ever I was robbed, and all my things were taken,
I pray to God they'd leave behind a bag of smoky bacon.