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