Where there are too many cooks the soup will be too salty.
Related quotes
When there are two cooks, the soup becomes either salty or saltless.
If there are two cooks in one house, the soup is either too salty or too cold.
Too Many Cooks In The Kitchen
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many minds on the job
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody wants a piece of the action
Cooking the books and getting their fractions wrong
What we need is law and order
Everybody knows
Cant have chiefs without the injuns
Stepping on their toes
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many daps in the pie
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody needs a place in the rat race
Playing games of power, its only a cat chase
Too many too many too many etc.
Too many cooks in the kitchen
[by the colonel]
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who cooks the soup must eat it up himself.
Many cooks put too much salt in the soup, food.
Soup Of The Day
Well she thinks shes looking so cool
She thinks shes great but shes just a fool
What awful lack of class makes this kind behave this way
I look and only think of one thing to say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Shes thin around the waistline
Thin around the brain
You see this type so many times
Time and time again
How could they really think
Theyd be treated in any other way
Everybodys looking and everybody say
Soup, shes just soup
Soup of the day
Well youd think theyd know better
That behaving in this way
They think theyre being clever
But I really have to say
Youd better think it over
Youll regret it one fine day
When the circus partys over
And you were just soup of the day
Shes just soup
Soup of the day
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody Soup
everybody soup....
arms and legs,
hands and hearts....
boiled in the broth
of human experience....
seasoned by time,
and salty tears...
till fused together
with the sweet taste of life!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I was wrong: So what. todays idiocy
I say that it’s impossible.
You cannot eat soup with chop sticks
Though it is highly probable.
Someone will try to prove he can.
To demonstrate his cleverness
and show he is a better man.
What will it prove should he succeed?
That I’m mistaken in my view.
I will be happy to concede
.
the victory to some buffoon.
Who can eat soup using chop sticks.
I still prefer to use a spoon.
I think soup should be eaten hot
I do not like cold soup a lot.
20/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Talk Soup
I dated siamese twins
I slept with bigfoot, too
Get me on sally jesse
Put me on donahue
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
My dogs a narcoleptic
My moms a circus freak
I gotta get a spot on
Geraldos show this week
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just an anorexic codependant bingo addict
Stripper born without a chin
And Im only comfortable talking about it
When the whole wide world is listening in
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
My wife ran off with elvis
My boss shaved off my hair
Ive got a thing for poodles
And rubber underwear
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
I had a close encounter
I never chew my food
I got eleven nose jobs
I yodel in the nude
And I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Im just a cross-dressin alcoholic neo-nazi
Porno star, as you may have guessed
And Im really gonna feel a whole lot better
If you let me get this thing off my chest
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Im just your average schizophrenic nymphomaniac
Albino go-go dancer, you see
Nothin so bad that I cant share it
With a billion friends on national tv, whoa...
I have no genitalia
I sold my kids for cheese
I love my blow up doll, so
Bring out those cameras, please
cause I wanna tell the world about it
Right now
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
Talk soup... talk soup
Listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me, (listen to me) listen to me
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sky Seasoning
A piece of sky
Broke off and fell
Through the crack in the ceiling
Right into my soup,
KERPLOP!
I really must state
That I usually hate
Lentil soup, but I ate
Every drop!
Delicious delicious
(A bit like plaster),
But so delicious, goodness sake--
I could have eaten a lentil-soup lake.
It's amazing the difference
A bit of sky can make.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Salty Salty
Hey sailor, what you think, hey buy a girl a drink
That was the first thing she said to me
I was on dry land but I was back at sea
She was so pretty but she was so mean
Cmon boys, Im sure youve been
Chorus:
Na, na, na, na, na salty salty
Na, na, na, na, na salty salty
Hey mama whats your name, hey whats it matter
You just tied up from your long voyage
Im sure gonna make you feel better
She was a beauty she was so good
Doin her duty now its understood
Chorus:
Hey lady, whats your game, hey can I play it
Everybody knows when the price is right
So just come out and say it
She was a beauty she was so good
Doin her duty now its understood.
(mccafferty, sweet, charlton, agnew)
Publishing copyright: m.a.c.s. music
Copyright 1986 nazareth (dunfermline) ltd., dunfermline
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soup of day
She said severely:
“God have said: the soup must be warm! ”
It was a Gazpacho, a cold soup to a warm evening.
I have mixed tomatos, cucumbers,
red and green peppers,
red onions, a few garlics,
a few parsleys and coriander.
This soup had a beautiful colour: red and green! green and red!
It was cold, very cold, iced.
I have warmed up her soup
I have grilled also some scallops
with a pistachio dressing
she said:
“It is delightful mostly the orange and red parts.”
It was only a question of colours
I have dreamt at a blue gazpacho, blue scallops
Blue like the sea but the sea is never blue
and the blue is not a tasty colour.
Then we have recited some french poems
This evening was quiet and tender
despite the heat wave.
I like to remember this iced soup
and the awful warmth.
poem by Jean Francois Le Goff
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A man who touches the bottom of a soup plate with a ball of foofoo is no longer searching for soup.
One spoon of soup in need has more value than a pot of soup when we have an abundance of food.
Supper
The supper of the red soup came with love,
And Veh came along with Xeh as the next door neighbours;
But Beh was my friend on the supper of the red soup,
And i will take Beh back home on this love.
The pictures of my mind brought up wonderful colours,
And of the muse of the red soup so enjoyed last night;
But i will take Beh back home to embrace my love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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You cook vegetable soup
You cook vegetable soup
and I look at you
while you cut green beans,
carrots, onions, celery, parsley
and tomatoes into two pots.
There are herbs, spices
and pepper that you are scattering
and two types of soup powder
that you throw in
and the pots steam and buzz
while I am washing the dishes
and the smell
makes me hungry
and I wonder
if the soup
are going to taste as good
as it smells.
We drink tee
and there’s medicine
that you give for flu
to me
and it’s great
to be with you
to read the look
in your beautiful eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Sea is a Salty Road
Come with me to Calico Beach
Where Peppy Creek runs down to the sea,
Where squawking flocking seagulls screech
And powerful pompous pelicans preach:
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
There's a tangerine sun over Calico Beach
Where walloping waves strike snaggletoothed cliffs,
Where gadabout gulls get about all day
And tangled spangled seaweed drifts,
And the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
We shall roost on a rock that the tides cannot reach
While a prominent porpoise delivers a speech
About chasing the tuna and hunting the squid
Whose inky secretions keep her well hid.
We shall squawk at the gulls and bark at the sea lions
Who waddle about on the calico sands,
For they tell tall tales to the penguins and puffins
While chasing the ocean away from the land,
And the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road!
Oh we shall have an entertollicking time
By the hooligan cliffs on Calico Beach
After the plump sun plops in the bay
And the marigold moon pops up to play.
The ocean fandagoes, the starfish cavort!
With vociferous vigor, we’ll wobble and snort,
Hopping and clapping by the zestful sea,
Sipping our frisky phenomenal tea,
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
Next day we'll embark in our Bumblebee boat.
On the merry melodious sea we'll float,
Where breakers loom and surf-flowers bloom
And whales and seals and dolphins zoom.
Up and down and around and around
Where mountains and fountains of waters abound,
Swigging our bubbly broth as we brave
The tempusterous blusterous flusterous waves,
How gleeful and freeful and wild will be we,
Riding the turbulent tides of the sea
For the sea is a salty road, oh yes!
The sea is a salty road.
poem by Norm Milstein
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The Salty Sea
Oh, how I love the salty sea,
And if it were up to me,
I would stay there night and day,
While felling it's soft, sweet spray.
I would sit on the salty sea shore,
Watching the seagulls dip and soar.
I would sit on the sand, soft and white,
And stay 'till the sun was out of sight.
When the sea tide is low,
I will stay while it tickles my toes.
When the sea tide is high,
I will not bid it good-bye.
Oh, how I love the salty sea,
I wish it belonged just to me.
If I could hold my breathe forever,
I would never move, never!
So, on the sand I would lay,
And wait for the tide to take me away...
Oh, how I love the sea!
poem by Layla Stone
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Undefined
When I borne,
I was the symbol of truth
As i grew, Evil I gathred
Knew not! ......
When I transformed
From Gangotri to Salty sea
From Gangotri to Salty sea........
(Gangotri= Origin of River Ganga)
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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In Dark Shadows.
the pepper pot
towards the nun
on her right.
The salt follows
once more given
a gentle shove.
To understand
another’s need
without them asking,
an elderly nun
had said.
A nun is reading
from a high desk
in the refectory.
Some book on Cromwell,
a life, back whenever when.
She sips her soup,
the French soup spoon
held in her right hand.
The nun on her left
passes the water jug.
Offers to pour.
Sister Felicity nods
and smiles.
The nun pours
a liberal amount
then puts down the jug.
Opposite an elderly nun
dribbles soup,
her shaky hand
missing the target.
Nan did that.
How can one forget?
She remembers
her grandmother’s
slow decline;
the slippery slope
down to the side ward
in the dank hospital.
Onion soup. Too hot.
She blows to cool.
Sunlight reaches down
through high windows.
Worlds explode
in dark shadows.
poem by Terry Collett
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