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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