How do I love thee sausage? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
Of your porkiness, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, draped with bacon.
I love thy on a barbecue, as men strive for seconds;
I love thy with daddies sauce, as they go for thirds.
I love thee with mash and gravy,
With a chips and beans, or egg and chips.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
For any other meat, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better tomorrow, on a sarnie.


(Copyright elizabeth Barret Gravy-Browning).

Please note this sonnet only refers to the good old British banger. If
we're taking fancy dan foreign German muck, then all bets are off.

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