Le Chef

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The Gallic chef surveyed the fish,
Their bodies cold and lifeless.
But how could he prepare the dish?
His friends had left him knifeless.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 He rattled through each kitchen drawer
With calm consideration,
Searching for a sharp knife for
His masterful creation.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Then, just as things were looking grim.
He found a knife that suited.
He held it up in front of him,
The satisfaction muted.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 He gazed upon the slender steel,
The sharp blade gleaming brightly.
He turned it once to gauge its feel,
Then grasped the handle tightly.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 And at a steady, measured pace,
With neither fuss nor messing,
A smile spread o’er his placid face,
As he applied French dressing.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 The blade with smooth precision sliced
Through scaly fish with ease,
Till, giving thanks to Jesus Christ,
He sank down on his knees.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 The innards all lay in a pile,
The table marked and rutted.
The master chef evinced a smile,
The English cod were gutted.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/le-chef/