I mince some dates
And a green and stout cucumber.
I am at home.
Slaving in the kitchen, stovetop heat aglow,
Addin' fresh bee pollen, giant sprouts and roe.
I have a wok.
I am a-fryin'.

I've filled halls,
Enormous feasts served nightly,
So guests may masticate.
I have no love for French fries, stir fry's more my game,
The platters stacked with grub that's never plain.
I have a wok.
I am a-fryin'.

I chop a dove.
Well, I stir in herbs and pork.
I'm peeking at my recipes.
I so allay the hunger of people that have dined.
It's a clever lunch that always satisfies.
I have a wok.
I am a-fryin'.

I am a cook,
And my po-ultry, I'm inspecting.
I've been dealin' with the farmers.
Knives and forks and spoons, plates and napkins, too,
It's such cuisine and not too tough to eat.
I have a wok.
I am a-fryin'.

And the wok feels the flame,
And the frying's ever-prized.