Poem:Waiter, This Chef Is Too Crispy!
Waiter, This Chef Is Too Crispy.
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The air was hot and steamy too
The chef had grown irate
When I say chop…you bloody chop
When I say grate…you grate
His mood was such, they hated him
With all his spite and ire
So no-one fetched a blanket
When he set himself on fire.
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