Ballade 2

In Antwerp, Bruges, Ostend and Ghent
  I used to order food with flair,
  But in every inn to which I went
  They always brought me, with my fare,
  With every roast and mutton dish,
  With boar, with rabbit, pigeon, bustard,
  With fresh and with salt-water fish,
  Always, never asking, mustard.
 
  I ordered herring, said I'd like
  Carp for supper at the bar,
  And called for simple boiled pike,
  And two large sole, when I ate at Spa.
  I ordered green sauce when in Brussels;
  The waiter stared and looked disgusted;
  The bus boy brought in with my mussels
  As always, never asking, mustard.
 
  I couldn't eat or drink without it.
  They add it to the water they
  Boil the fish in and-don't doubt it-
  The drippings from the roast each day
  Are tossed into a mustard vat
  In which they're mixed, and then entrusted
  To those who bring-they're trained at that-
  Always, never asking, mustard.

  Prince, it's clear a spice like clove
  can drop its guard. It won't be busted.
  There's just one thing these people serve:
  Always, never asking, mustard.

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Eustache Deschamps

Eustache Deschamps was a medieval French poet, also known as Eustache Morel. more…

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"Ballade 2" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 4 Jun 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/13159/ballade-2>.

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