Grumping

There’s fish and chips on the table It’s lovely and all piping hot Sauce and vinegar was in bottles Salt and pepper each in its pot. Now it’s laid out on the table Driving me more and more to despair It’s in individual little sachets And some of them won’t tear. My fish and chips lie uneaten And they’re rapidly losing heat Without a splash of vinegar Their taste just isn’t complete. Stuff just poured out of bottles Didn’t give me the despair Of wrestling with plastic satchels That just won’t bloody tear There’s designers and designers Each in a field of their own And I’m sorry if I’m grumpy And ever ready to have a moan But there is this little saw That’s Quite frequently spoken Just don’t try and fix a thing If the original ain’t broken.