Tag Archives: Ice Cream

You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream Because Of Them…

Some folks like chocolate ice creams,

Some folks prefer vanillas,

And some folks don’t like ice creams at all

Because they’re serial killas.

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Sermon On The Scale

Blessed are the cheesemakers

Who turn milk into gold

By putting it in barrels

‘Til it’s really, really old

(And occasionally covered in mold).
Blessed are the coffee roasters

Who make heaven out of beans.

They harvest the energy of life

Among the coffee greens.

(To top it off, their uniform is partially blue jeans).
Blessed are the chocolatiers

Who shape, box, and decant.

For them my praise has no end,

And neither does my rant.

(Their uniform also includes a form of denim pant).
Blessed are the ice cream men,

And ice cream women too.

They make a food that’s wonderful,

And you don’t even have to chew!

(It seems that most good things in life come from the things that moo).
Blessed are the liposuctionists

Who make the other four

A possibility, and let

Me eat enough for four.

(And now my sermon is complete. No go and eat some more). 

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Ice Cream

Neoplitan:

I just eat the chocolate part.

What does that make me?

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The Ice Cream Bar

When they invented the ice cream bar
They missed an opportunity
To add an element of class
To the nightlife community,

For think about a bar you know:
Alcohol’s all she wrote.
Why not mix your drinks up
With a regular beer float?

And who wouldn’t enjoy
Three dozen flavors on tap?
The very thought of an ice cream bar
Just makes me want to clap!

And if your drinking because of pain
Something sweet can end the sobbin’.
Thanks for listening, venture capital guy,
But what’s a Baskin Robbin?

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One Double Scoope of Love

‘Twas my 22nd Summer alone
When I met my love in a waffle cone.
She was sweet and brown and cool
And for her I was a fool.

I was but white, and sort of bland,
But still my love did take my hand.
Although we were of separate classes,
We both appealed to the masses.

And so I asked her for her name,
And sweet, of course, her answer came.
“I am lady Chocoliette,
But I do not know your name yet.”

“My name,” I said, “Is Vanillio,
And I think I’ve fallen in love with yo.”
We shared a kiss and some saturated fat,
Then some kid ate us, and that was that.

Thus ends the tale of Chocoliette
And her beloved Vanillio,
Who had a pretty decent life
As star-crossed lovers go.

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