Now that time of year is here,
Time to gather fruit and ear.
Bring them into Mother Church.
Likewise in the home we search
For the tins and packets rare
In the cupboard ‘neath the stair.
Those with sell-by date so old,
To the church we’ll bring so bold!

Cans of soup we never sipped,
Beans and stew with labels ripped.
Pasta dried from Tesco’s sale,
Ravioli now blanched pale.
First the jelly – always lime,
Then the pots of freeze-dried thyme.
Glorious tins of corned beef hash,
Packs of dried potato mash.

In God’s name our pantry’s clear,
Unused food can disappear.
Best not show that cheaper brand
But the names that are so grand.
Shelf on shelf is neater now,
To the hungry we’ll endow
All the tins of Harvest Home,
Killing two birds with one stone!