All In A Day's Work Poem by Mark Heathcote

The cook is in the kitchen drinking; let us reflect why
Why is there no wine or brandy in his Sunday sauce?
Why is the tavern empty; where did all the people go?
The cook is in the kitchen drinking; let us reveal why
Why is the guard dog howling; where-does-that cat slink off?
Why have all his loyal patrons gone home to their wives
The cook is in the kitchen drinking, sharpening his knives.

He's raucous in his wild singing, loud as anyone can be
He's sautéed some liver and steak mushrooms.
And is dancing on a barstool, uninhibited, angelically free
He's been and done the fandango on the cobblestones
With every fair maiden that's walked through the door
So everything is now tiresome, and an awful-monotone bore
All said and done, folks; he just forgot to lock up and go home.