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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!

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