This is a story I 'd like to tell
Of how disaster struck,
And how my good intentions,
Turned quickly into muck.
It happened on one Friday night,
While acting as the chef,
Thought I would cook a real nice treat,
But it ended up a mess.

A can of salmon I opened first
Chopped onion for some flavour,
Then the creamed corn for the taste,
Mashed potato one would savour.
A patty was my aim to make,
But this mixture was real thin
So a bit of flour and one weetbix,
To thicken next went in.

I place these patties in the pan
And hoped they wouldn't burn,
But things got worse no matter what,
I tried they would not turn.
And seated round the table were,
My father, Kate and Brent,
All hungry waiting patiently,
For a hard days work was spent.

So finally I served them up
But the truth I think I knew,
When father he just raised his eyes,
And said they were like glue.
But there was one my friend indeed,
He didn't seem to mind,
He ate them all the taste he liked,
Old Drum the shaggy kind.

Now out again I come this week
To be once more the cook,
But I'll be sure this time and bring,
My trusted cookery book.
And you will have to be content,
With a chop or perhaps a snag,
For never more I"ll cook that fish,
Just to end up clag.

And that is how my story ends
A failure that one night,
No matter what I tried to do,
I couldn't get it right.
So to the fisherman on the bay,
I offer up this prayer,
Bring me a cod,a flake, or brim,
But leave the salmon there.

Christine.