So you want me in the kitchen
You tell me you can cook
I hope that you’re not fooling
Or a self-pleasured kind of crook
With a desire that I truly love
And an oven getting hot
I lead you to my table loft
And pray your boasts aren’t for naught
Pretend that I’m that bread of French
Kneaded so gently while I stand
Now I’ll lean over on elbows soft
Please be gentle with your hands
Now take your special rolling pin
Lubricate it so it won’t stick
I’ll help you if it’s what you need
Boy this sucker sure is thick
Now be sure the oven rack you seek
Isn’t the one that I recall
Make sure you use the lower rack
Because the upper is too small
Now my buns are swelling
As my oven spreads its heat
Maybe I’ll do a double cook
And slip in a piece of meat
At last all is ready
Now is the time for fun
Spread out your creamery moistness
And butter up my buns
Now that the baking is over
You make your moves and I start bitchin
I only wanted your labor of love
Now get out of my freaking kitchen