Bo Ruminates on the Slug

The slimy, crawly slugs this year,
Their numbers are incredible,
Oh—icky, yucky horned things,
If only they were edible.

They’d marinate in garlic’d wine,
And then be set to roast,
With just a hint of rosemary,
Then placed on buttered toast.

And none would be the wiser,
No foody critics rail,
For in the presentation,
They’d look just like a snail.

Boreegard
Sept. 13, 2009