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I went for dinner with Lord Tennyson
Expecting that a plate of venison
Would be, as usual, our evening fare.
Not so! “Tonight”, he said, “We’ve something rare;
I caught the creature in a nearby lake,
And trust I can induce you to partake.”
He offered me a glass of hock and soda;
The dish was served; a fishy, gamey odour,
A disconcerting taste, not wholly pleasant,
Half-way between a mackerel and a pheasant.
I murmured somewhat guarded approbation,
And complimented Tennyson’s collation.
He beamed. “Time was, I favoured deer or beef,
But find this succulent beyond belief,
So now, as winter comes and evenings darken,
I dine exclusively on roasted Kraken.”