Sausage

John Bannister Tabb

 Next Poem          

We are ground, but no more grounded
In our family affairs:
What is found, is so confounded
That no Sausage longer cares
To determine how or what he
Owes the family of Pork,
In the pens of Cincinnati,
Of Chicago, or New York.

Next Poem 

 Back to John Bannister Tabb