Ragnar The Cook

Oh, Ragnar the Cook, with his yellow hair,
Stood high at the counter, a-top a chair.
He put in the pot, with a competent hand,
The parts of a cow that could not stand;
Then pinches of pepper and salt did add,
And smiled his light, did the happy lad.
He learns real fast, and he acts fast, too,
And hears his mother, in making stew.
We see success in his bright blue eyes,
And love of work that is run right wise.
It is not here shown—his mother’s face,
But her firm, clear voice puts just praise in place.
Oh, Ragnar the Cook, may he chef next be,
And dish up a meal of pure poetry!

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s