Food - Algoa Bay Port Elizabeth

I cannot cook – let’s face it – although I’ve really tried,
And yet, to date, no guest of mine has ever gone and died,
Each veggie that I’ve boiled has turned out quite a sickly green
And as for all my salads (well, you wonder where they’ve been!)

The eggs I poach go bouncing right off the kitchen floor
and no-one in my family will ever ask for more;
The meat tastes just like leather – you chew on it all day,
And even fish and chicken go down the same old way.

I thought I could make popcorn – quite easily, on my own,
but left it on the stove to burn, whilst talking on the ‘phone;
Another time I made it (yes, in a brand new pot!)
it rained down just like hailstones (the lid I’d quite forgot!)

My cakes look quite dejected (if cakes have any feeling)
and evidence of pancakes is fixed upon my ceiling,
Whilst scones and tarts and biscuits are tasteless, bland and dry
and all my culinary efforts the dog refuses to try.

Yet how I do love eating – all food is my delight
(Rather plain to see, because my jeans are getting tight!)
And friends just love to visit, for they’re welcome as can be
but know it’s best if they themselves provide the cake for tea!

Transcribed by permission
SJA
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