Day after day I wonder what to cook

Thumbing through the pages of my old cookbook

Will it be liver, fish, chicken or beef?

All I get from the family is grief

Because asking them is a waste of ‘thyme’

And the kitchen is filthy, full of grime

I sift and stir and bring to a boil

In the oven it goes all covered with foil

The dinner bell sounds

And everyone runs in in a hurry

Surprised at what they found

Just to be different, I made them curry

Pulling dishes down off of the shelves

Now if only I could get them to clean up after themselves!