I do not like asparagus
That rooty shooty plant
And you won’t really care, I guess,
About this silly rant
Its stems are pulpy, woody-like.
Its tips have tiny spades.
That look for all the world, to me,
Like mini hand grenades.

I’ve tried to cook it many ways
And give it proper lovin’.
I’ve boiled and steamed and creamed and braised
And shrunk it in the oven.
My daddy used to buy it canned
And put it on his toast.
I fancied him a true gourmand
And to my friends I’d boast.

But, now that I’m a very cook
(I’ve tried each recipe)
I’ve tasted all, and by the book,
But it gives me smelly pee.