THE WIGAN PIE

THE WIGAN PIE

They say if you come from Wigan,
The bigger the pie, the better the big’un.
Everyone round here seems to eat,
That mighty pie they call a treat.

But can a treat be eaten each day?
In Wigan, that’s simply the proper way.
Meat and potato, steak or mince,
They’ve been loving their pies ever since.

Some have gravy running down,
Some are famous all through town.
Some are little, some are wide,
But it’s what is hiding deep inside.

A hungry man stepped off the train,
Cold and wet from pouring rain.
“What’s famous here?” he asked nearby.
A Wigan man just shouted, “PIE!”

They put one proudly on his plate,
He stared at it and said, “That’s great!”
Then everybody gathered around,
Not one person made a sound.

His mouth fell open, eyes grew wide,
He saw that steaming feast inside.
The crowd leaned closer, wondering why,
“Will he love our Wigan pie?”

He took one bite and closed his eyes,
Then gave a grin of pure surprise.
He ate the meat, he ate the crust,
He licked the gravy, as you must.

Then leaning backwards with a sigh,
He whispered softly, “What a pie.”
The crowd all cheered from far and wide,
Their Wigan pie had passed with pride.

And every year he comes again,
Straight off that very Wigan train.
No fancy dinners, he knows why,
He only comes to get his pie.

So if you ever pass our way,
And someone asks what you’ll have today,
Hold your plate out, don’t be shy,
Say, “Give me a Wigan pie!”

And when you’ve eaten every bite,
You’ll know that Wigan got it right.
One proper pie beneath our sky,
Will satisfy both you and I.