making a meal of it

probably, my first poem should rhyme. here goes…

up north human eats its dinner,
when everyone else has lunch.
i really can’t get my head around,
when i’m supposed to munch.

do i have cake and sandwiches,
when it’s tea time at four o’clock,
or meat and three veg at half past five;
should tea be cold or hot?

it’s hard to know what meal to eat,
if it depends on where you’re at.
i suppose you could eat all of them,
but then you’d get real fat.

so many meals i can’t keep up:
breakfast brunch lunch dinner and tea.
i’m already full, please hold the plate,
supper‘s too much for me.

and that’s before we come to pud,
which might otherwise be dessert,
or dinner if it comes filled with beef…
my head’s starting to hurt!