Travels With Oso con Migo

Is There Life After Antarctica?

OAE On The Road Again, New Zealand

THE ONE HUNDRETH THREE BEAN
SALAD ANTARCTIC CUISINE

         A paper I must quickly find,
         To jot these words that crowd my mind:
         The galley lined,
         The mess defined,
         Three Bean Salad- One.
         It means the freshies are all done.
         Soon, with the passing of the sun,
         We'll Three Bean Salad all the way
         'Til by its light the planes find day
         To bring us lettuce for our pay.
         One sock two sock
         Blue sock blue sock;
         Every foot here wears the same socks
         Except the ones who've cut the tops off.
         Of Three Bean Salad there is more,
         It's getting to be such a bore;
         One bean two bean three bean
         Mung bean string bean fling bean!
         They're piled in the corner, and
         Strewn upon the mess hall floor,
         Hanging tapestry from the I beam
         My night-mares are like three bean dreams.
         Quoth the skua even: "No more!"
         Can't we have four bean?
         The cook I implore,
         Or, how about two bean.
         The cook points: the door!
         It is said strange things happen
         In the Antarctic Night,
         A man will do most anything
         For a head of lettuce not too ripe;
         Or an apple,
         Or a celery, wither'ed or not,
         Ahh- what I can think of for a carrot!
         Fresh of course, not canned-
         Not sliced nor diced, but whole.
         I would carry it to my garret
         Hoard it smell it revere and marry it!
         Wait! Its June. The Midnight Moon lights
         Mid-winters endless night and
         Airdrop comes with eggs all scrambled
         And mail is in such a shambles.
         The mail we can sort and read
         (Thank God for those who care to write.)
         But as Humpty Dumpty learned,
         No glue will egg shell seal tight.
         And lettuce! Let us find the lettuce;
         They said to us they'ed send freshies
         To ward off Three Bean Salad crazies
         In the dark Antarctic night.
         "Where's the lettuce?
         Where's the Lettuce!"
         Oh NO! That chute din't open
         And the pallet's made a crater
         And the freshies are all crushed;
         Lettuce, toms and celery,
         Carrots, rads and apples too?!
         Quick, get a dozer over here,
         I know just what we will do.
         A great big bowl the crater makes,
         We'll toss it with the dozer;
         The splintered pallet use for toothpicks
         When the salad feast is over.
         Be quick now boys
         And bring the dressing,
         A hundred gallons should do just fine;
         What's that, it's mayonnaise you want?
         This line is Russian, that's Blew Cheese,
         We don't have time for mayo please
         The salad is about to freeze.
         Jump right in!
         Eat your fill!
         Stuff it in your shirt and pockets,
         Pack it under bed and lock it;
         Eat and eat and eat until
         We finish with this ballad
         And its back to Three Bean Salad.

--ajo, mcm25feb89

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