By Mark Cowan
How must it feel to be an onion?
I can't see the a-peel
As the chef is standing
Knife at the ready
Just how must an onion feel?
If I was an onion I'd have the urge
To scream and shout out 'STOP!'
Before the knife came crashing down
As I was ready for the chop.
Yet here's the biggest irony;
As I'm cubed, then sent to fry
My life is chopped to pieces
But the chopper is the one to cry.