As a Poet
I lack the knack
And my rhymes
Are none to sweet

But when it comes
To kitchen craft
I simply can't be beat

My apple pie is famed
On distant western shores
And my chocolate cake alone
Could end the next world war

Ghandi loves my pot roast so
He told his best chum Churchil
To come down to my kitchen
And sample the fruits of my grill

Hitler loves my matzah balls
And my Rabbi loves my pork
So much that they split a loaf
Of apfelstudel so that they
Could have a little talk

And though my pølser is divine
And my risgrøt beats the rest
I would love to be a poet,
I think that would be best