Yesterday I made some fish,
And didn’t cook it in a dish.

I didn’t cook it in the sink
I didn’t cook it with some mink.

I made it in a frying pan.
(I’m not a woman; I’m a man).

Nothing was that supposed to mean.
Don’t tear out my manly spleen.

Anyway, I cooked and cooked,
And looked and looked.

I read my Betty Crocker book,
Still too long it took to cook.

Then, connected did the missing link.
Salmon’s always rightly pink!

Not a true story.