There's good cooks and there's bad ones —
No harm in bein' frank;
But, speakin' gener'ly, I'll say,
A roundup cook's a crank.
There's something aggravatin' in
The dealin' out of chuck,
That makes a man not care fer jokes,
And feel down on his luck.

If you should think to doubt my word,
Jes' go and sass a cook;
And then fer some deep hole to hide,
Go take a sudden look.
While goin's good, you'd better go
Before the hash-knife falls,
Before the boss of pots and pans
Your frame in anger crawls.

But yet we sort of like the cook,
And love to hear him say:
" Oh, you'd better come and git it,
Or I'll throw it all away! "
And to his face — tho', privately,
We cuss him now and then —
We brag upon his chuck and act
Like perfect gentlemen.