here is a nice poem about Rocky Mountain Oysters by
Baxter Black.
THE OYSTER
The sign upon the cafe wall said OYSTERS: fifty cents
"How quaint," the blue-eyed sweetheart said, with some
bewildermence.
"I didn't know they served such fare out here upon the plain?"
"Oh, sure," her cowboy date replied, "We're really quite urbane."
"I would guess they're Chesapeake or Blue Point, don't you think?"
"No, ma'am, they're mostly Hereford cross...and usually they're pink.
"But I've been cold, so cold myself, what you say could be true
"And if a man looked close enough, their points could sure be blue!"
She said, "I gather them myself out on the bay alone.
"I pluck them from the murky depths and smash them with a stone!"
The cowboy winced imagining a calf with her beneath
"Me I use a pocket knife, and yank them with my teeth."
"Oh, my!" she said, "You animal! How crude and unrefined
"Your masculine assertiveness sends shivers up my spine.
"But I prefer a butcher knife too dull to really cut
"I wedge it in on either side and pry it like a nut!
"I pry them out. If they resist, sometimes I use the pliers
"Or even Grandpa's pruning shears if that's what it requires!"
The hair stood on the cowboy's neck. His stomach did a whirl.
He'd never heard such grisly talk, especially from a girl!
"I like them fresh," the sweetheart said and laid her menu down
Then ordered oysters for them both when the waiter came around.
The cowboy smiled gamely, though her words stuck in his craw
But he finally fainted dead away when she said, "I'll have mine raw!"
