A poem on being asked to dinner with friends maunderingly entitled:

A Paean of Joy somewhat perplexed by Questions in the Form Of An Improperly Constructed Sonnet by your faithful servant Daniel Anderson

Tomorrow night sounds quite alright!
what shall we bring? Yes! Anything!
a little bite? a tasty mite?
what flavours with our mouths to zing?

A saucy dish! A bakéd fish?
Wing of Emu soup? (not lite)
I cannot chewse! What do you wish?
What scrump-ti-ous-gastro-delight?

Tho, fish or wings are trifling things
for friendship is the Food Of Kings!

(feel free to make use of it yourself sometime. At least then my New Testament class won’t have been completely wasted…)