The is but one job that I want

Which I dream of daily,

To be a  chef and make a croissant

My dream, I imagine gayly.

Cooking in the household room

Where magic happens in the stove,

And amazing smells come from he fume

And from any type of clove.

Sugar and spice and everything nice

Ingrediants in the pot,

Making a cake, each peron a slice

Add icecream while it's still hot.

My greatest dream, to be a cook

And maybe write my own cookbook