O, hot sauce I can write about until the cows come home;
How some of it will burn your gums and turn your tongue to loam;
And others have a subtle way of sneaking up on you,
Delaying their eruption until the day is through.
It comes in little bottles with red caps or corks of wood;
It really is a condiment by most misunderstood.
Its flavor should bring tears of joy, not tears of membranes wracked
With searing heat as if by devils constantly attacked.
It can turn a heavy dish into a charming meal,
And give to lifeless casseroles a ringing, sincere zeal.
But use it with discretion, for all love and mercy please!
Otherwise your palate will become a hive of bees.
(Inspired by a story in the New York Daily News)