Bucky Beaver's Stags, Loops & Peeps #11

And I can cook, too, my soufflé's renowned.

My cheesecake has been all around.

I'm the man's ideal, oh, the perfect meal.

Right down to the demi-taste.

I'm a pot of joy for a hungry boy.

Daddy, I'm cooking with gas.

I'm the tisbit, a well-toasted tart

that's not in the recipe book.

And what's more, Daddy, I can cook.

I've made a magazine cover.

I run my house on a dime.

I'd make a wonderful lover.

I should be paid over time, 'cause I can roast, too,

on top of a lot.

My oven's the hottest you'll find.

Oh, I can roast, too, my chicken's just ooze.

My gravy will lose you your mind.

I'm a brand-new note.

I'm a table-dote.

Just try my a la carte.

With a single course, I can choke a horse.

Daddy, you won't know where to start.

I'm an hors d'oeuvre, a pumpkin preserve.

That's something right out of a book.

And what's more, Daddy, I can cook.

Have you ever made a meatball?

Meatballs are tricky.

The point is, they have to be round.

It's better, of course, if there's a little meat in them.

Fry in deep fat, and there you are, a meatball.

Oh, I can fry, too, on top of a heap.

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