At the Sign of the Gagging Maggot, A bistro at the foot of Boot Hill, The river Styx runs through it, Where they serve the finest of swill,
A Fine Dining Bistro and Cemetery, Where it's all-you-can-eat brains-on-the-cheap, You can lay even odds on dysentery, So the burial plots there are deep,
They cater to a discriminating crowd, Though restaurant patrons are rare, Customers here never visit for long, Except when they stay on a dare,
At the Sign of the Gagging Maggot The hors d’œuvre are all-you-can-eat, Finger food prepared for the patrons, Barbecued tips of decaying meat,
The food one might say is unusual, Defined by some standards unknown, The mystery meat served is extraordinary, Though you might find in it more than a bone,
At the Sign of the Gagging Maggot, It's a dining experience sublime, Although some patrons there get queazy, When they slurp down a plateful of slime,
If you were to order 'The Special,' Which is made fresh we're told every day, It might make you feel rather queazy, Unless you generously apply some bug spray,
You could order the stew from the menu, But on second thought, perhaps you should not, Its salty, gelatinous gravy, Has a very strong flavor of snot,
The 'Soup de jour' is served hot, of course, But that must be done for good reason, Because if it ever were served cold, You might just discover its season,
One dish that is always served fresh, Is of course the fish fillet? Caught from the banks of the river out back, Where it laid dead in the sun yesterday,
Be sure too, to sample the gravy, It's made from "Au Jus" so they say, Straight from some crypt it was dripping, From ashes, dead bodies, and decay,
You really must try their desserts, They really are just to die for, At least that's what's written on tombstones there, By the chef who had evened the score,
So if you are up for excitement, And don't really care to survive, Just visit the Gagging Maggot, You just might not leave there alive!
Bio: Bruce A. McCausland is a Western New York artist, potter, poet, and humorist whose family historically, is very familiar to the Buffalo art community; his mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother were all noted artists in Western New York. His experience in pottery and writing poetry dates back to around 1980 when living in Connecticut where he was still in the US Navy. There he first starting writing humorous poetic parodies, and with his pottery developed his own unique techniques shortly after taking an introductory course in pottery at the art studio facilities available on the submarine base where he was stationed. Despite the evident demand that soon developed for his work while in the service, by the end of his enlistment commitment in late 1983 he no longer had use of those facilities and after nearly four years, reluctantly abandoned this past time to pursue a career and raise a family. In the mid to late 1980's he again took pen to paper and composed many of his early popular poems, but after marriage in 1992, he took a hiatus from both pottery and poetry to concentrate on raising a family and his career in the IT field. Now since 2009, after a 26 year break from his art, except for occasional opportunities when he put pen to paper or when a pottery wheel became available, he has immersed himself back into both of these forms art.