As a result of a labor dispute, Hostess — the makers of the Twinkie, that joyous, anti-nutritious concoction that has long been a favorite of hefty American children, myself included — is going out of business.
Nooooooo! It’s bad enough that thousands of workers will lose their jobs, but can it really be that the Twinkie will go the way of the Dodo? How can a cruel world deprive youngsters of the finger-licking pleasures of cream-filled, yellow sponge-caked goodness, dipped in milk?
I therefore republish the Webner House Ode to a Twinkie, not in celebration, but in sorrow:
O Twinkie! My Twinkie!
O Twinkie! My Twinkie! The noon hour now draws nigh
My morning classes will be done, to you my thoughts do fly
The bell will ring, the rush will start, and we will race to lunch
The crinkled paper bag will ope, on PBJ I’ll munch
But O! Dessert! Dessert!
My hungry heart doth beat
For in my sack I soon shall find
A cream-filled sponge cake treat.
O Twinkie! My Twinkie! Your sponge cake damp and gold
And filled with tasty frosting, sweet and white and bold
The wrapper tears, my eyes grow wide, the sticky mass I grasp
And clutch to waiting bosom like Cleo and the asp
And so to eat! To eat! To eat!
With glass of milk, ice cold
Then lick till clean the bottom square
Of its crumbs, wet and gold.
O Twinkie! My Twinkie! My lustrous sack lunch friend
The sight of you gives rise to thoughts of lunch’s happy end
Your taste I crave, and I desire to see you on my plate
I do not mind if you are made of calcium sulfate
Fear not, my friend! Fear not! Fear not!
We’ll eat you still with pride
Come Polysorbate 60, hell,
or grim diglyceride!
Webner House 