“Beaver tails”, “whale tails”, “elephant ears” – the vendors pop up everywhere in the summer from folk to jazz to fringe festivals. But what they’re really hawking is good ol’ fryfread.
In honour of this frybread in disguise, I present to you, three poems:
Frybread – A Limerick
Ubiquitous at summer fests
From East coast to North, South and West
They call it a “whale tail”
But we know without fail
It’s fry bread! And fry bread’s the best.
Frybread – Haiku
No matter the name
My sight, taste, unmistaken.
Get in my belly!
Frybread – Acrostic
Festival season, walking around
Recognizing the smell, knowing the sound
You see the sign – whale tails are here!
But they cannot fool you – frybread is near.
Revel in sweetness with butter and honey
Eat it up savory – it’s good bang for your money
Any way you slice it – up, down or sideways
Delicious! Delectable! And we love it all ways.