The Feast Song

I'm never late for dining in the feast hall
When dinner's called, I hasten to my seat
It's not that I'm assuming that the meal will be a treat
But the first things on the table may be all I have to eat 

The bread and cheese are laid out on the table
And butter, honeyed, mixed with herbs, or straight
I'll tuck into them greedily and pile them on my plate
For then there'll be no room and they'll believe me when I state...
         

CH:   I'm sure the next remove's not on my diet
            I see that I cannot identify it
            [I'll pass on all the slimy stuff
            And anything with peas]
            Just give me bread and butter, and cheese.

There must have been a special on cilantro
Or why else would it be in every dish?
They've cooked enough for armies; you can take all that you wish
But how much can you eat of boiled snouts and pickled fish?

 I never knew that you could do that with a turnip
To eat it would be really such a crime
There's something green that's floating in a milky pool of slime
My lord, please pass the basket with the bread here one more time...  CH

[The rancid meat's more period, It helps keep down the fleas]

The cook went over budget on the peacock
That's why we're getting gruel with every course
They say the candied herring soaked in mead's authentic Norse
This roasted meat is not half bad, but where's the Prince's horse?

I don't know how they got that shade of purple
I can't begin to guess what's in the pies
The fish head stew's okay, but did they need to leave the eyes?
And will our waivers cover us when everybody dies?  CH

[Just take the sheep's head right back to the kitchen, will you please?]

The suckling pig is only raw in places
I guess a bite of cabbage wouldn't hurt
They say it's more nutritious if you don't wash off the dirt
At least the next remove is safe— how can they wreck dessert? 

There's something frittered (best not look too closely)
And sugared eggplant jiggling in the heat
The pie looks just like cherry, but it's really made with beet
Just pass the honey butter and I'll have my something sweet!  CH

[And if I ever win the Crown, we're going for Chinese!
But 'til then just pass the butter,
Let the Cook's Guild moan and mutter,
And bring me bread and butter, and cheese!]

words and music by Ken and Lisa Theriot

© 2000 Raven Boy Music, ASCAP

Copyright Raven Boy Music, 2010