Percy Poot loved Portugal
And used his cooking skills
To open up a business
In the Algarve’s craggy hills.
He called his venture “Percy’s Place”
And offered local menus,
At prices that took no account
Of other local venues.
“I’m better than the rest of them”
Was what he seemed to think,
But no-one came to Percy’s Place,
So Percy took to drink.
He cooked the best that he knew how
To tempt the punters in,
But still the prices put them off
And Percy lived on Gin.
And pretty soon it was quite clear
The business was “borassic”,
But Percy then decided
he would cook a local classic……
……. for anyone who wanted it
He’d show them what they’d missed.
He took a giant cooking pot,
Although quite clearly pissed.
And into it went chillis,
Oregano, olive oil,
Sea salt and Cider vinegar,
He brought it to the boil.
Poor Percy staggered to the door
And cried “I’ve done my best”.
Come in you sods and taste my sauce,
I’ve added lemon zest.
“I’ve tried to be authentic,
Cooking grub from your own nation
And you just turned your noses up.
Imagine my frustration”.
But people simply sidled past
This raging, ranting sot,
So in the depths of his despair
He jumped into the pot.
And as his shouts subsided
And a silence fell, quite eerie,
Poor Percy, who would cook no more,
Committed Piri-Piri.