Ben's

Ben's

There was a fine restaurant called Ben's.
They served such exquisite roasted hens.
We just had to go,
Me and my beau,
And seven more of our closest friends.

We sat at a large table for ten,
Leaving one special seat free for Ben,
Just in case the chef
Wanted to catch his breath,
Unknown what the future would portend.

So Ben came from the kitchen to sit,
And honored us with some kitchen wit.
And out of the blue,
The chicken came too,
And the hand meant to feed us got bit.