Conor's got P.E. , so his kit is washed,
I've wrapped his butties in foil, so they don't get squashed,
Pork Luncheon meat, in a crispy roll,
And a carton of Ribena, to fill that hole.

Jess starts College at One, so she'll wake at Five - to ,
Cheese and Pickle, will have to do,
I've had my pint of milk, with three Weetabix,
Got a Flagon of Cider, all the boxes are ticked.

A days grafting ahead, out near Billingshurst,
Laying bricks and blocks, building up a thirst,
And home to the hungry, back to the shops,
It's either Chicken Kievs, or half-price lamb chops.

Custard and Pie, hot milky drinks,
Then everyones asleep, except for me, who thinks,
About tomorrows butties, fruit and snacks,
Calories, nutrition, vitamins and facts.

Up at dawn, in an old bobble-hat,
Making food for them all, even the cat,
A tin of Tuna, he's well impressed,
Another flagon of Cider, another sweat-stained vest.

Like a 21st century Snow White in her crystal casket,
You can find me in the frozen aisle, lying on a bed of ice cream tubs and chicken kievs,
Unconcious.

Slide the plexiglass door open,
Pick me up.
Do not worry if your freezer looks too small,
I can bend, I can fold.
You can consume me tonight, tomorrow, next week, six months from now and I won't expire.

It doesn't take too much to cook me,
Yet it shows you haven't done enough cooking in your life to know
That once meat is defrosted, you can't freeze it again and expect it to taste good.