Cockroaches

They were always present. They ruled the kitchen by night. You could hear them in the dark See them when we turned on the light Making kamikaze runs across the grill, Hear them sizzle pop and roast When you popped in for supper, Make your own hot buttered toast. They were hidden in the mash, Even sometimes in the fries, Floating in the soup urns, Peeping out of hot meat pies. Just a fact of billet life You knew you’d never beat ‘em Just prayed and hoped that You hadn’t gone and eaten ‘em. Cockroaches in the cookhouse A fact you had to admire Constantly scurrying around Never seeming to to tire. A fact we learned to live with, With comments a little rude If you were unlucky enough To find a dead one in your food. You’d move it surreptitiously Hoping not to spoil others scoff A highlight of each day was Each short communal trough. We were young, fit, and hungry And we didn’t really feel It was in the best of taste to ruin Another’s much needed meal. I read they’d been on this planet Millennia longer than modern man. If a creature can survive extinctions I’m sure that hardy species can. In my honest option, for Whatever that’s worth, They’ll still be around after man Has long been wiped off this Earth