The Barbecue Poem by Ernestine Northover

When summer evenings are nice and hot,
The thing to do is find a spot,
Where a barbecue can be set up,
So everyone can come and sup,
Relax with a bottle, and sit for a spell,
Which would be really nice and would end the day well,
And enjoy the light hearted, cheerful chatter,
With friends, who to you, truly matter.
Right!
The table's set, the flares are lit,
The music should be a real hit
The friends have arrived, the drink if flowing,
Laughter starts, the barbecue's glowing,
The cooking has started, the aroma's divine,
Everyone is getting along fine,
When!
The barbecue begins to smoke,
The chef, who's coughing begins to choke,
The chops are burnt the spare ribs too,
Everyone's looking very blue,
Conversation has now come to a halt,
What has happened, who's at fault,
There's thick smoke spiralling into the air,
It's now giving everyone a scare,
People are suddenly beginning to panic,
Good heavens, they are going manic,
What can be done, the food is no more,
The wine has been spilt all over the floor,
Everyone is utterly desolated,
For the poor old barbecue has disintegrated,
On top of that, it has started to rain,
It is really driving the guests insane,
The garden's looking a real shambles,
It really is just one of those gambles,
That the weather will go and change her mind,
But it's left such devastation behind.
The hostess takes a deep breath and swallows her pride,
Waves everyone goodbye, takes it all in her stride,
Clears up all the mess, and calls it a day,
But will book another date and just hope and pray,
That the weather forecast might treat them well, so
With friends once again, they can dine alfresco.

© Ernestine Northover