None of them
(verse 1): G Oh how I wish, C I could just swish up, G That one special dish, C That they thought was delish. G C But when I make something terrif, D G They pass out with only one whiff.G Em D And they say, "Take it away, throw the stuff out. Em D Where there's a will, there is always some doubt. G C It may not be finished, but why mess about? D G It's probably yucky for sure. (verse 2--copy chords for verse 1) This soup's over done. That puree's too lumpy. My ring mold's too jumpy. My cakes way a ton. The turnip pie's burnt or it's raw. The soufflé just walked through the door. (Chorus)
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