Spice Drawer

I cannot read small labels, my eyes don’t see so well The labels on my spices: a culinary hell. I came up with a system; it’s pretty hard to beat, ‘Cuz most of what I cooked before was not so good to eat. With pictures on the label, it’s easier to know; ‘Cuz peppermint and barbecue simply do not go. Anise is a garbage can, I kick it to the curb Basil, I called Rathbone, a swashbuckling herb Bay leaves, Otis Redding, sitting on the Dock My chives, the brothers Bee Gee, ‘cuz it’s the one that talks Cayenne, picture of a large teepee, ‘cuz man, it's real in tents I cinnamon Jamaica way; I haven’t seen him since Allspice, a real Transformer, it sure does add a spark Cocoa, murdered cuckoo bird, because that’s really dark Cardamom’s a driver’s license, to check if she’s young or old Chili is a heavy coat for days that it's too cold Curry is a horse’s brush, for favorite Indian dish Garlic, a nasty tongue, to taste an ugly fish I haven’t any Ginger, ‘cuz Mary Ann’s the best Lemon peel, a self portrait, to scrape with zeal and zest Sage, a wizened wizard, ‘cuz they give fatherly advice Hibiscus, pics of flowers, because it smells really nice Mustard, a colonel, in the library, with a pipe of lead Pepper, a peck, what Peter picked (or so they said) Nutmeg is a soccer ball that’s passed between the legs Paprika, scary Lucifer, atop my deviled eggs Parsley just has Elvis, for when you need a shake Pumpkin Spice, a perfect pie, the kind you want to bake Thyme, can’t keep too much on hand, the liner notes from Styx Cajun rub, a pair of legs; it’s got a healthy kick Tarragon, a house on fire, the smell when Scarlett’s mansion burned Caraway, Mav from Top Gun; okay, it's breath, I'm unconcerned. Tartar, from the Enterprise, Kirk wearing Scottish kilt Pepper flakes, Quixote's windmill; you'll need the fan 'cuz it's full tilt. Yeah, some of these are pretty bad, but cooking is more fun. My family sure is happier; they love a tasty pun!