The gentleman who designed my previous kitchen
is unknown to me and nameless
Which does not mean that I hold him blameless,
For he decreed that there should be a gap just
one inch wide
Between the stove and the bench it stood beside.
The gruesome things that can drip, drop, dribble
and drain down such a region
Who knows what horrid creatures wallow
In this dank disgusting hollow?
If there is justice in the Afterlife
This guy has sure earned lots of strife
Such as row upon row of tiny abysses
Between the benches and cooking dishes
Which he's forced to scrub with a tiny brush
While his probing fingers twist and crush
In ungetattable nooks and crannies
Around the greasy pots and pannies
In which the bacon fat can fall
And little beasties creep and crawl ...
I am never benign
About kitchen design,
Tending to ask, before I have seen it,
'Who's going to clean it?'