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
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