Sonnet VI
Some chefs have reached a level quite elite,
But I can’t say that I am one of those;
In every dish their skillful talent shows,
While anything I make just tastes like feet.
I tend to burn all sauces, eggs and meat,
(Though chicken comes out pinker than a rose);
My soup and sandwich sucks, my salad blows,
Desserts look like I scraped them off the street.
But there’s one food I make that’s not a crime, In fact it’s something many people want; Word that my toasted rings are so sublime, Has spread from California to Vermont; Come taste them and you’ll too realize that I’m An onion bagel idiot savant.
But there’s one food I make that’s not a crime, In fact it’s something many people want; Word that my toasted rings are so sublime, Has spread from California to Vermont; Come taste them and you’ll too realize that I’m An onion bagel idiot savant.
