Ode to the Chef or Chefs lament

[MadCap]

Ever have one of those days at work where everything is in order but, everything goes wrong anyway...?

 

Last Friday night inspired me to pen a bad poem, you've been warned.

 

I’m Tired

I’m beat

I have pains inside my feet.

My spirits weary

My breath is short,

But still I write you this report.

 

All night long the

Wrong food goes out,

This makes me want to scream and shout,

The servers say their sorry

And now I know it’s true

‘cause next they take a rack of lamb,

instead of Irish stew.

The manager says “Don’t worry, it will all be over soon”,

And even as he says this

I want to kick him to the moon.

 

I spend most my life

Inside these walls

To cook and stress and sweat

I don’t know why I do it

I must have lost a bet.

 

So for now I say, good naben

Adios, Auf Wiedersehen.

I’ll see you in the morning

Or my names not Chef Lane.

 

Peace

[icky?/]

I thought it was pretty good man