Poem by Roald Dahl from James and the Giant Peach
(C) I've eaten many strange and scrumptious (F) dishes (G7) in my (C) time,
Like jellied gnats and dandyprats and (F) earwigs (G7) cooked in (C) slime,
And (G7) mice with rice they're (C) really nice, when (F) roasted in their (C) prime.
(G7) (But (C) don't forget to sprinkle them with (F) just a pinch of (C) grime.)
I've eaten fresh mud burgers by the greatest cooks there are,
And scrambled dregs and stink bug eggs and hornets stewed in tar,
And pails of snails and lizard’s tails and beetles by the jar.
(A beetle is improved by just a splash of vinegar.)
I often eat boiled slobbages. They’re grand when served beside
Minced doodle bugs and curried slugs, and have you ever tried
Mosquitoes toes and wampfish roes, most delicately fried?
(The only trouble is they disagree with my insides.)
I'm mad for crispy wasp stings on a piece of buttered toast
And pickled spines of porcupines and then a gorgeous roast
Of dragon’s flesh, well hung, not fresh. It costs a pound at most.
(And comes to you in barrels, if you order it by post.)
I crave the tasty tentacles of octopi pie for tea.
I like hot dogs, I love hot frogs and surely you’ll agree
A plate of soil with engine oil’s a super recipe.
(I hardly need to mention that it’s practically free.)
For dinner on my birthday shall I tell you what I chose?
Hot noodles made from poodles on a slice of garden hose
And a rather smelly jelly made from armadillo's toes.
(The jelly is delicious, but you have to hold your nose.)
Now comes, the centipede declared, the burden of my speech.
These foods are rare beyond compare, some are right out of reach,
But there's no doubt I'd go without a million plates of each,
For one small mite, one tiny bite, of this fantastic peach.
(C) I've eaten many strange and scrumptious (F) dishes (G7) in my (C) time,
Like jellied gnats and dandyprats and (F) earwigs (G7) cooked in (C) slime,
And (G7) mice with rice they're (C) really nice, when (F) roasted in their (C) prime.
(G7) (But (C) don't forget to sprinkle them with (F) just a pinch of (C) grime.)
I've eaten fresh mud burgers by the greatest cooks there are,
And scrambled dregs and stink bug eggs and hornets stewed in tar,
And pails of snails and lizard’s tails and beetles by the jar.
(A beetle is improved by just a splash of vinegar.)
I often eat boiled slobbages. They’re grand when served beside
Minced doodle bugs and curried slugs, and have you ever tried
Mosquitoes toes and wampfish roes, most delicately fried?
(The only trouble is they disagree with my insides.)
I'm mad for crispy wasp stings on a piece of buttered toast
And pickled spines of porcupines and then a gorgeous roast
Of dragon’s flesh, well hung, not fresh. It costs a pound at most.
(And comes to you in barrels, if you order it by post.)
I crave the tasty tentacles of octopi pie for tea.
I like hot dogs, I love hot frogs and surely you’ll agree
A plate of soil with engine oil’s a super recipe.
(I hardly need to mention that it’s practically free.)
For dinner on my birthday shall I tell you what I chose?
Hot noodles made from poodles on a slice of garden hose
And a rather smelly jelly made from armadillo's toes.
(The jelly is delicious, but you have to hold your nose.)
Now comes, the centipede declared, the burden of my speech.
These foods are rare beyond compare, some are right out of reach,
But there's no doubt I'd go without a million plates of each,
For one small mite, one tiny bite, of this fantastic peach.
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