Eggy Bread


This ain’t no restaurant “French toast”

it’s made over burning logs

in the country air


Foundation for the morning

Set against a glorious sunrise

and cups of camp tea


Thick crusty bread

absorbed in a lake of

golden runniness


Bacon awaits its partner

as it cooks away

in its fat


Poor Man’s omelette ?

after a night on the hills

it’s the food of kings.


Knives and forks ?

or eaten as a sandwich

only quandry – sauce Red or Brown ?




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