Long night at work in a bad poem....

[MadCap]

"Chefs Lament"

 

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 its true

‘cause next they serve a Crème brûlée,

instead of Irish stew.

The métier Dee  says “Don’t worry, it will all be over soonâ€,

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.