The Kettle Boys

The Kettle Boys, the Kettle Boys
Famous now across the land
Shorty and Tubby
Slim, Curly and Tiny
Comprise this merry, jovial band

The Kettle Syrup, the Kettle Syrup
Dark and thick and full of flavour
Oh so sweet
Good to eat
A maple treat for you to savour.

The Kettle Games, the Kettle Games
Waiting for some girls and boys
To pull the strings
Assemble things
And have some fun with all the toys.

The Kettle Hug, the Kettle Hug
Don’t be alarmed if on first meeting
You’re embraced
With arms enlaced
A very special form of greeting.

The Kettle Fudge, the Kettle Fudge
Some people call it maple candy
A bite or two
Good for you
I’m sure you’ll agree it’s just jim-dandy.

The Kette Boys, The Kettle Boys
Making syrup like pioneers
with fire hot
and boiling pot
They really do roll back the years.

Mr Blake makes Maple Syrup

Every year I write an article for our local arts and crafts newspaper, the Humm.This year I wrote a poem about Mr Blake.

A man named Blake, decided to make
Maple syrup to eat as a treat.
He’d seen it done, and it looked like fun.
He thought he could master the feat.

So he set out to find, some pails of the kind
He could hang on his maple trees.
Some buckets he found, a bit battered but sound,
Once used for coffee and teas.

For spiles he used pipe, a kind of the type
He could cut with a sturdy hacksaw.
With a push and a pull, he made a bagfull,
All ready to wait the first thaw.

Then off to the trees, in snow to his knees,
He hung a pail on each tap,
And sat down to wait and calculate
The syrup he’d make from the sap.

For collecting the sap, which dripped from each tap
He used a rather large bucket,
On a sleigh he could tow, through the heavy deep snow
To a tank in which he could store it.

Then he searched for a kettle, made of heavy cast metal
In which the he could boil down the sap.
While rummaging round, he found one that was sound,
In a pile of old lumber and scrap.

He hurried to put, the dried wood he’d cut
In a pile he thought he could burn
And he started his fire, with a piece of old tire.
The smoke was not his concern.

He hung his kettle, right over the middle
And added a pail of fresh sap.
The sap bubbled and boiled, it foamed and it roiled
Without a single mishap.

But how did he know, when he had it just so
Without a temperature gauge.
He used his big dipper, turned into a dripper
To test when it reached the right stage.

Now if you’re like Blake, and syrup you’d make,
Just follow this simple routine.
You’ll find it is fun, and when you are done,
You’ll enjoy your exquisite cuisine.

A Maple Syrup Limerick

Maple syrup is a wonderful thing
Made fresh from sap every spring
You can’t get enough
Of that flavourful stuff
It goes good with most everything.

It’s good with biscuits and butter
It was used on rolled oats by my mudder
You can’t stop at one
When dipping your bun
It calls for one more then a nudder.

When tasting it makes your lips smack
But there’s one thing it really does lack
Folks would really go for
They’d break down the door
If it was also and aphrodisiac.