Ode To the Cheese Crispito

Although we all know it, you can't spell out perfection, and our stomachs to it we commit, under our seasoned inspection, the smell is in the air, so thick we can almos taste its glory, O how we try to not stare, and like a wolf with its quarry, we leap at it with great joy, the texture O so splendid, unmatchable by any false decoy, the only thing we ever did, was eat the Crispito.