Poem: Mustard - Ronald W. Hull

Mustard

Mustard on your hot dog,
Mustard on your fries.
Thought it was ketchup,
Twas all a bunch of lies.

Mustard on your shirt sleeve,
Mustard on your lap.
Staining your new shirt like that,
Ought to get a slap.

If you ask for mustard,
Don't say, "Grey Poupon."
Don't say it, that is,
Without your formals on.

Mustard for the Army,
Mustard for the coast.
The Army is a terrible way,
To leave those you hate the most.

Golden mustard in the fields,
Is the farmers' bane.
Mustard greens in the pot,
The poor man can sustain.

Mustard it from the grape vine,
Mustard from the news.
Those who mustard for the Army,
Got a lot to lose.

So if you're in some foreign land,
And see the fields of gold.
Remember those who mustard out,
And didn't live to grow old.