My man likes to cook
The kitchen is his lair –
You should see what he can do
With an avocado pear!

He doesn’t weigh or measure
Just leaves it all to fate;
At times you can’t distinguish
The food that’s on your plate!

He swears like Gordon Ramsay
But he’s a cooking amateur;
A style that’s much more greasy spoon
Than restaurant Cordon Bleu!

It is common place to hear
The CRASH of pot and pan –
But bless him, he’s a trier
Is my culinary man!

When I watch him with his chopper
He turns my knees to jelly;
And my thoughts become improper
When I see him rub pork belly!

I want to be the cream
In the bowl that he whips!
Or the joint that he’s trussed up!
Or the veggies that he strips!
We blend so well together
But let me clarify –
I’m tired of discussing
Fifty ways with stir-fry!

So it’s time he left the kitchen
For a date with me –
We could go out for a meal
And drink some cold chablis…
Maybe if he’s lucky
He might even ‘score’;
(That’s if we arrive before
They serve the petit fours!)

So come on! Hang up your whites!
It’s time now to reform!
Please take me out to dinner –
Before I turn luke-warm!

And when you’ve maxed your credit card

I promise I’ll omit

That I’ve banned you from the kitchen –

Cos your cooking tastes like shit!



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