I see the chef cook his stew
And marinate you in the morning dew.
Yes, I see the chef cook his stew
He will make lunch out of you!

The chef, he’s grabbing you by your neck
And all that you’re thinking is “What the heck?”
Now he’s grabbing his butcher’s knife
And you ask “Shall you take my life?”

The chef, he answers "Yes, I will!
You bloody rooster, you I will kill!”
You start to struggle hard for your life
All to avoid getting struck by the knife.

But it’s too late, his grip is to firm
The chef says “Your bones I will put in a urn”
The knife, it falls and chops off your head
He will cook you now that you’re dead

I see the chef eat his stew
He has made lunch out of you
Yes, I see the chef eat his stew
He is now devouring you!