A Georgian on rye
A Jew on sourdough
And a Finn on wheatgerm
Balt is the filler
Vladimir was too grisly
And Yulia too lean
But Sergei stewed nicely
While Svetlana gave some heartburn
These were the burgers of Leningrad
When the rat hampers were exhausted
The cats and dogs ceased to prowl
And the horses stopped trotting...
For 900 days the Hun pounded and plundered
The larders depleted, bar a single dusty dumpling
Stomachs went emptier and cavernous
Until Natasha chewed on Anton’s arse
The NKVD could not stop such a trend
Inundated as they were with shooting strikers
The new foodies of flesh insurmountable
Recipes swapped, a cooking show discussed...
Boris on toast did not last too long, mind
But it was still a surprise for Party and SS alike
A wartime cataclysm to be such an opportunity
To exploit an age old curiosity in taste...

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