Camus Cafe

Our waiter herded us to our seats
Not skipping any beats
While he moved us to our moonlit table
We argued like animals in a stable
Over some moot point:
“How strong’s a moose joint?”
He with his stable mood
Calmly asked us to order food

I asked for their famous hamburger, extra tomatoes
You ordered a Reuben sandwich and mashed potatoes
He wrote our orders down
With what looked like a frown
Time swiftly passed
As we hemmed, hawed and sassed
Our food arrived and looked quite delicious
We started devouring our separate dishes

While wiping ketchup-stained lips on my sleef
I suddenly realized, “Hey, where’s the beef?”
You were in the midst of some loud finger-lickin’
When you learned that your meat was actually chicken
I opened up the remains of the whole wheat bun
And found both ham and some crisp bacon
There was no use crying over spilled milk
We finished up the products of waiter’s bilk

You said, “He was at the very least polite”
I countered, “But he didn’t get our orders right!”
You said, “At least it tasted good”
I said, “Of course, as it no doubt should.”
You said, “Just pay him, don’t make a scene.”
I replied, “But what he did was obscene!”
And on we went, our drinks still sipping
Arguing the ethics of cow tipping