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tofu poetry

The ElectricWok

'Twas spill-ed, and my slimy toes: Did slide and slipple in the muck;
All messy were my eyes and nose,: And on my carpet the tofu stuck.
"Beware the electricwok, my son!: The sauce that bites, the mustard with spice!
Beware the sweet-and-sour pork, and shun: The tofu cookie batter batch!"
He took his spatula in hand:: Long time the nonstick type he sought.
So placed it he, by mushrooms three,: And went to get the wok.
Before the oven--gas--he stood,: Castiron wok on burner of flame,
Poured oil to coat the bottom good,: As tofu burbled its own name.
One, two! One, two! And stir and stir!: The spatula went slither-splat!
He fried it black, and on a plate: He brought it, sizzling, back.
"And didst thou disdain the electricwok?: Bring to my table, my tofu and more!
Stirfry today! Tofu! Hooray!": Then he spilled it on the floor.
'Twas spill-ed, and my slimy toes: Did slide and slipple in the muck;
All messy were my eyes and nose,: And on my carpet the tofu stuck.