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From The Seattle Star, July 14, 1913. By Berton Braley.

There’s many a viand that pleases my taste
And adds to my joy and the girth of my waist.
I’m fond of ice cream and of crackers and cheese
And terrapin, too, with my palate agrees;
Of food that is simple and food that is rare
I find I can utilize all of my share,
But wondrous, indeed, are the inroads I make
On cold mashed potatoes and left-over steak!

Ah, me! How I pity the mortal who dwells
In big boarding houses or costly hotels.
No matter how richly and grandly he dines,
With French-fried dishes and notable wines,
He never can know the delights of the deed
Of raiding the icebox in search of a feed;
He never can know what it is to partake
Of cold mashed potatoes and left-over steak.

For when the fore part of the evening has sped
And the stomach expresses a wish to be fed,
To satisfy hunger that follows the play,
I have no desire for the gaudy cafe;
Ah, no! I would stick to my regular hunch
And dig in the icebox in search of my lunch.
At home, in the kitchen, my fast I would break
With cold mashed potatoes and left-over steak.

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