Oh Romano, Romano, Wherefore Art Thou Romano

Asiago midst crumbled ruins;

Whence eyed that ancient Emmental:

Castle Roquefort; Nay Neufchatel,

Nor Colby Cottage thatched:

But aged Brick, Marbled amber,

Cloaked in veined Gorgonzola;

Nigh whose mould Blue walls,

Nay flower Gruyere.

Liveno there Italian noble Romano:

No airy Swiss or flippant Monterey Jack he;

With bride maiden Pure:

Whose Skim was as Cream,

A beauty beyond all com' Parmesan.

Life was Gouda;

Tilsit one Vailed Knight:

A Humboldt Fog hung Stilton air;

Wherein a Lincolnshire Poacher,

Camembert away his Dutchess.

Manchego!

“Oh cruel Fetas.” he cried

For his lost love heartaChed, dark mood

Tears flowed Fontainebleau;

Havarti to Provolone his true love?

Yes. He would Go at once to free her:

As soul Processed by demon Wheys;

To Leyden the Trappe Veritable;

Thus send Curworthy foe to its Greve.

Brave Chevre he'll thus be shown.

Alas,

When he Cojita the Muenster,

It went Pourly;

He Pule out too soon and Doppelganger;

And so in Curds his own demise.

Aye,

Tis Lief's String that's cut Brief;

Yet me thinks however Sliced:

This Head cheese but Farmer Manouri

Lorraine!