The Pie Tester

 

 

I am the man who tests the pies

they set before the King.

With fingers, nose, ears, tongue and eyes,

I check for everything.

 

In order for the pie to pass,

examined it must be;

I use a magnifying glass

to see what I can see …

 

I take the pie and shake it hard,

in case I hear “tick tock.”

I would not want to disregard

a time bomb with a clock.

 

And then the golden pastry crust

I sniff and give a lick;

the glaze, you see, I do not trust

to be free of arsenic.

 

I shove my fingers in the top

and squeeze the meat inside

to make sure all foul plans I stop;

preventing regicide.

 

A pastry check I have to make,

done with a hefty mallet,

to see it’s had a proper bake

fit for a royal palate.

 

And having fully passed the test,

the pie sits on a plate

inlaid with golden royal crest,

as for the King we wait …

 

Yet every time, the funny thing,

is when it’s safe to bite,

His Noble Majesty the King

has lost his appetite.