When I think about frying, absolutely nothing comes to mind. I mean, really zero. Eventually, I thought of a poem and found it.
It’s from J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit.” It’s got a hefty dose of boiling and roasting, too. If you are sensitive to little birds, this is probably not the poem for you.
Fifteen birds in five fir trees is a poem found within the chapter:
Fifteen birds in five fir trees,
their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!
what funny little birds, they had no wings!
Oh what shall we do with the funny little things?
Roast ’em alive, or stew them in a pot;
fry them, boil them and eat them hot?
Burn, burn tree and fern!
Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch
To light the night for our delight,
Bake and toast ’em, fry and roast ’em!
till beards blaze, and eyes glaze;
till hair smells and skins crack,
fat melts, and bones black
in cinders lie
beneath the sky!
So dwarves shall die,
and light the night for our delight,