The pies are done (a little burnt),
I've overcooked the bird,
the beans are black (I wish they weren't),
the gravy understirred,
and cooking lessons never learnt
must have the final word.

But though the dish I pass to you
is drab and cold and dry,
and tender as a saddleshoe,
offending nose and eye,
this bile's the best that I can do--
Bon apetit (poor guy)!