Reader's Poetry


| December/January 1986

Ontario Canada

Ezra Jones was a legend in days gone by
He had this thing about eating pie,
He'd still be eating when the rest were through
Just any kind of pies would do.

Breakfast he ate with apparent zest
At the table long before the rest,
Six eggs with bacon and golden fries
Then a dozen pieces of assorted pies.

Ezra was tall and lanky and thin
With a Roman nose and a pointed chin
Standing six ft. 2' in his stocking feet,
He didn't eat to live, he lived to eat.

He had pie for breakfast and pie for lunch
He always had pie for his Sunday Brunch
In your whole life you never saw such a guy,
People swore his middle name was pie.

When Ezra was part of a threshing crew,
He was something to watch I'm telling you
The hired girl had blisters on her feet
Just from carrying the pie for this man to eat.