How could I resist it?
Standing in the butchers
It was staring at me through the glass.
I had asked for my joint of pork,
But looking down I saw it,
I saw the oxtail,
I had to have it.
Dreams of olden days
Where oxtail was cooked,
So I asked for some oxtail,
So that I could create a stew,
An oxtail stew as of old.
Here I was in the kitchen,
The oxtail went into a pot,
Water went in over it
And it was boiled,
Boiled for a long time
So the meat would fall off,
Fall off the bone.
The meat was ready
So it was put back in the water,
The water contained the juice,
The juice from the oxtail.
In went carrots, swede and onions,
Then parsley and thyme,
Worcestershire sauce,
Salt, pepper and red wine.
It was then boiled until cooked.
Then came the pièce de resistance,
I made some dumplings.
As I made them memories came back,
Of those times with my loved one
And the laughs that we had,
As I made and ate dumplings,
While she made and ate doughboys.
Into the pot they went,
And half an hour later
All was cooked.
So there I was sitting at the table
With a plate of oxtail stew in front of me
And a large glass of Rioja to the side.
A wondrous meal,
A meal of old,
But eating alone.
It brought back such wonderful memories
Memories of eating with my love
Before she passed,
Passed to that restaurant in heaven,
Where one day I will be,
Be sitting with her,
Eating oxtail stew.