Table of two, no starters, we’re off,
Table of six, pre-order, nearly forgot,
Two, two, four, three,
I always knew tonight would be,
Harder than last night for me,
To keep up with the pace,
But we’re going to see.
The heat and the noise,
Have started readily,
Gradually growing, building steadily,
It becomes a haze, I spin in a daze,
I'm hot, I've got, tunnel vision, I’m on a mission,
I can’t fall behind,
It’s a race to the finish,
Hoping for the heat and the hell to diminish.
Last ring on the bell,
But it's hard to tell when……
The checks still appear, I struggle to hear,
The boil, the chop, the toil, the sear,
I'm in here for them, the table of ten,
Their starters are gone, it’s near the time when,
We send out their mains, that table of ten.
Four, small, tables to go, three have arrived,
And one’s a no-show,
It's ten fifteen, we’re almost closed,
Check on chef, two tables to go,
Last orders in, can’t take any more,
Just had a walk-in, a table of four,
I don’t want to do it, I'm tired and I'm sore, Sweat from by brow drips down to the floor.
That's it now, I’m near the end,
My bad mood lightens,
My frowns un-tighten,
The rail is clear, we’ll all have a beer,
While we clean down each section,
It’s time for reflection. "Why do we do it chef?" is the question I ask, No one can answer but we know we'll be back....