Jack Foley and Clara Hsu



The Foley's Tale

 

"Yum yum," quod Jack in his demented weye.

"Nong Thon I go!" as it wolde him purveye

 

a blissful meal, in cas ye care to woot,

it maketh him to daunce with merry foot.

 

The menu he inspecteth full greet deel,

and none escapeth his devoted zeal.

 

He bringeth wyf, he bringeth all his freendes

but telleth noon especially the feendes.

 

O Thai ice tea to sooten first the lippes.

His gat-toth wyde as with alle sippes.

 

Imperial rolls priketh his corage.

A bowl of beef pho is his pilgrimage.

 

His heer crispeth like that of squid and shrimp.

Dessert a must, or else the day lieth limp.

 

"Most thynges are wood and few are very holy.

But eating well is God," seyde Mr. Foley.

 

Jack answered,

 

The Foley's Tale / With Clarion

(Two poete fowles makynge melodie!)

 

"Yum yum," quod Jack in his demented weye.

Ah, Clara comes to the heroic coup

"Nong Thon I go!" as it wolde him purveye

Insted of balking thir, she eats it up

 

a blissful meal, in cas ye care to woot,

She counteth syllables and maketh rhymes

it maketh him to daunce with merry foot.

Hir inspirationís hotte and gretly steams

 

The menu he inspecteth full greet deel,

She writeth Middle English with such es

and none escapeth his devoted zeal.

None wolde wiste that she was born Chinese

 

He bringeth wyf, he bringeth all his freendes

She also liketh to go to Nong Thon

but telleth noon especially the feendes.

She eateth all that is the menu on

 

O Thai ice tea to sooten first the lippes.

She drinketh tea, she slurpeth up her pho

His gat-toth wyde as with alle sippes.

(She redeth of the Wyf of Bathe also)

 

Imperial rolls priketh his corage.

She hath gone faróthough not to Walla Walla--

A bowl of beef pho is his pilgrimage.

She liketh taking trippe and telling tale

 

His heer crispeth like that of squid and shrimp.

Though Hong-Kong born, she is a pilgrim certes

Dessert a must, or else the day lieth limp.

But nonethelesse enjoys hir swete dessertes

 

"Most thynges are wood and few are very holy.

Itís rare, she saith, that I be caught in error!

But eating well is God," seyde Mr. Foley.

She is a verray parfit poet: Clara!