I was cooking a meal, it was going to be stew
I put a ham in a pan, green vegetables too
Crushed up a stock cube, potatoes, white wine
And poured a glass for myself, to kill some time
I turned on the gas, the pan started to heat
And refilled my glass, I deserved a treat
Added salt, some pepper, chorizo from Spain
And discovered my glass, was empty again
I was about to fill it, but to my surprise
The bottle was empty and, though I knew it unwise
I opened another, the last red in my rack
But tripped over the dog bowl and twisted my back
Burgundy’s good for you, I’ve read that, I’m sure
And if one glass improves your health, two must do more
I pulled up a stool, and added some peas
A little more wine, and a piece of blue cheese
I’d been cooking the dish for over an hour
And to give it some body, I added flour
But it thickened too much, so I stirred in more red
And drank one more glass, which went straight to my head
I was a little emotional, it had been a tough day
So, when I fell off my stool, I decided to stay
On the floor, on my bum, and accept defeat
I reached up to the cooker, and turned off the heat
Tomorrow I’ll liquidise the remains of my stew
And freeze it for soup, it’s the sane thing to do
Then I’ll pop to the shops, because I’ve run dry
Of both red wine and white wine, I can’t think why
I might have guilty of something similar, at sometime.