The Poetry Corner

A Counterblast Against Garlic

By Eugene Field

May the man who has cruelly murdered his sire-- A crime to be punished with death-- Be condemned to eat garlic till he shall expire Of his own foul and venomous breath! What stomachs these rustics must have who can eat This dish that Canidia made, Which imparts to my colon a torturous heat, And a poisonous look, I'm afraid! They say that ere Jason attempted to yoke The fire-breathing bulls to the plow He smeared his whole body with garlic,--a joke Which I fully appreciate now. When Medea gave Glauce her beautiful dress, In which garlic was scattered about, It was cruel and rather low-down, I confess, But it settled the point beyond doubt. On thirsty Apulia ne'er has the sun Inflicted such terrible heat; As for Hercules' robe, although poisoned, 't was fun When compared with this garlic we eat! Mcenas, if ever on garbage like this You express a desire to be fed, May Mrs. Mcenas object to your kiss, And lie at the foot of the bed!