08/12/2026
Ode to me, Rhyme composed by my daughter yesterday:
Master of the smoke, whose art is grand,
whose ribs are known throughout the lands.
You tend the fire both day and night.
You keep the smoke turned down just right.
Sweet wood of oak and hickory be,
Breathing flavors upon the meat so free.
The bark is dark, the center red.
All that taste travels to thou head.
The meat falls clean from off the bone,
and a more southern taste was never known.
Our Thanks to You. We praise your craft, your noble mind.
No finer rib smoker does one now find.
For this great skill, we raise our cups above all the rest,
to thanketh the Mighty Rib Master for what he does best.
I don't think Iv'e ever had a better compliment!!
