When you find a cockroach in a pie served a la mode,
although you may be loath to broach or tell the episode,
because the chef’s beyond reproach, or lest his head explode,
the topic, still, you should approach!
For that cockroach *will* encroach,
and all your pie he’ll try to poach
(he’s very fast, no slowcoach roach),
and all your ice cream he’ll erode,
and your piecrust, discommode.
Your whipped cream now he is bestrode!
Through your filling he has strode,
That bloated beast, that six-legged toad,
the blessed chef’s chief antipode!
A lot of pie and self-reproach now make a heavy load,
I’ll lick my wounds (and plate), encoach myself upon the road,
And find myself a better coach for penning my next ode!