Pete invented pasta dishes in his kitchenette,

and published all his recipes upon the internet,

as every day he mixed some new ingredients with glee,

his dream was to invent the perfect pasta recipe.

He sifted flour and warmed a pot of milk upon the stove,

a cup of powdered rhino horn, and half a garlic clove,

he rolled it out and chopped it into pixels like confetti,

it went out on the internet as "Wedding Night Spaghetti."

Another day he cut some into tubettes with a knife,

some lemon cheese was blended in, then served up to his wife,

she ate a tiny mouthful, called it bitter, bland and bony,

it went out on the internet as "Moaning Macaroni."

One time he left a batch to dry, until it grew a mold,

he cooked it up and tried it and it gave him such a cold!

A week of sneezing, runny nose and fevers, hot and chilly,

it went out on the internet as "Viral Vermicelli."

He boiled some rice with creamy cheese, and sangria to taste,

an hour of simmer - drink the wine up lest it go to waste,

it overcooked - he'd fallen on the floor, completely blotto,

it went out on the internet as "Rolling Drunk Risotto."

He sipped a cup of coffee, but he'd brewed enough for six,

so grabbed the pot and threw it in the latest pasta mix,

it turned out brown and terrible, and very, very smelly,

it went out on the internet as "Turkish Tagliatelle."

One night he tried a funny thing, with two cupfuls of bran,

mixed in the dough then blended with a giant baked beans can,

he ate it all, and from his rear there came a magic Genie,

it went out on the internet as "Farting Fettuccini."

But Pete was never famous, never found the perfect blend,

he'd still be searching for his dream, if he'd not met his end,

he's cooking up in Heaven now, in kitchens bright and holy,

it's lucky that he choked on his "Religious Ravioli."