A FUDGE POEM
From the Vassar College Miscellany 24, no.8 (May 1895)

We love the sight of the fudge-pan bright, 
We love the sight of the spoon, 
And better by far than the light of the star, 
Is the gas, now outshining the moon.

Then gather around with whispers profound 
For the bell has rung ten at night, 
With the transom shut, at our very last cut 
We'll sing to the fudge pan bright...!

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Here's mine... 

"Roses are red, 
Violets are blue, 
I like fudge, 
Where are my car keys?"

Endearing isn't it?