As our Night time dinner ends
Our pile of pain with no amends
Beside a plate of chicken bones
with uncooked beans and ringing phones
Atop a pool of chocolate milk
staining brown the vinyl silk
Beneath a tub of cream perspiring
the 'eat-by' date long past expiring
Our scuffle rages long and hard
until the beef is dry and charred
But as our trust is at a loss
We still can say 'please pass the sauce'
