Apparently the moon is made of cheese,

the creamed variety I’m told.

If it’s good enough for my lunar friend,

it’s more than ok for me.


I like to stare at cheese in the deli joint,

such a handsome lot they are.

Sometimes they dish it out for free,

I grab more then my share.


As a nipper I liked it with lettuce,

in a sandwich made by my Dad.

Off topic a little here I know,

but I miss him very much.


After dinner I like a cheese board,

a taste of heaven indeed.

I even enjoy the pungent ones,

though I draw the line at Roquefort.


I’m a master of cheese on toast,

Worcestershire sauce is the key.

It needs to be slightly burned,

and bubbling from the heat.


The names of cheeses are ace,

Gorgonzola the best of for me.

Reminds me of a love I lost,

for no real reason at all.


When they finally change the law,

I’ll marry my sweetheart Edam.

We’ll have Babybel’s by the dozen,

and live in the Cheddar Gorge.


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