Sandwitchery

Sarah Angst postcard art

An apocryphal history

By Geoffrey Dean










For those who are listening, a tale is in store,
A tale about sandwiches, witches, and more.
One Scholar inquired, when music was done,
How was, after all, the sandwich begun?
I told her sincerely what little I knew,
Of the Sandwich Earl’s haste as his appetite grew.
Her skeptical look and her lack of reply,
Showed me clearly I’d failed to reveal the full why.
If one is impatient, no relief will be found,
For this tale’s neither brief, nor by accur’cy bound:

It was late in the evening on Brocken’s high peak
When the oldest of witches let out a high squeak.
They had made a fresh batch of stewed frogs just before
The ugliest witch, she dozed off to snore.
The most timid of witches had stifled a scream
While of Englishmen gentle the ugly did dream –
Of an Earl who sliced meat, then carefully folded
It between like-sliced bread just before it had molded.
He took lettuce, tomato, and threw in a pickle
All to conquer the hunger that made him so fickle.

And at this she did wake in a feverish fit,
Most confuzzled she rose, her face all alit.
As she dreamt, she had startled, and come to remember
That the best-tasting sandwiches first you dismember.
She went after a sandwich with brim and a cleaver,
And in four sep’rate parts she did hasten to leave’er.
Thusly quartered, she stuck in each part a small stick,
Then she served them up slyly – a neat party trick.
Upon waking, her sisters declared, “O what nerve,
In your feverish frenzy you’ve made an hors d’oeuvre.”
But she still let them try her delicious invention
And this quickly quelled any further dissention.

For a sandwich that’s crafted and quartered and stuck
Was much more than a bit of the cul’nary luck.
Have you been with celebs at a noisy reception?
Then you know that this quartering changed our conception
Of what eating a sandwich might actually be,
And how talking and eating can set our souls free.
And that once-upon witch with her far-looking mind,
Could she see that years hence, in the recepting grind,
That these small skewered bites of sandwitchery shrewd
Would be favorite food of the catering brood.

In the midst of the maddening partying season,
Sculptured squares oh so tiny, triangular too,
Have so many inspired, been such a big reason,
To pay homage to Brocken and Sandwich, and chew.

Tho’ with this does my tale most officiously end,
In summary several lines more I append.
For those who are challenged while reading this blog,
Just study this witchless, Cliff-epilogue.

In great hunger good Earl had with wisdom decided,
That the best-tasting sandwich is a sandwich divided.
At a date later on he most strongly contended
A superior sandwich is a sandwich extended.
It was also the Earl who in hurry discovered
That the ultimate sandwich is one left uncovered.
Then the caterers came and removed all the bread
And they piled all the middlings on crackers instead.
Now fully concluded, this hist’ry, all through,
It is now up to you, Scholar mine – is it true?

Copyright © 2019 by Geoffrey Dean