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i once knew a cook, I won’t mention his name
Smoking butts and ribs was his only game

Every week he was out on the trail
Try as he might, he was destined to fail

He consulted with others; Gary, Wayne, and Gene
Needing more help; he asked Joe, Chad, Ken, and Dean

He would tweak his rubs and change his sauce
No matter what, he went home with a loss

He would say each week, that’s it, I’m done
And next week was another 15.1

As he sat on his porch, pondering his fate
Up popped the devil, standing at his gate

He said I know charcoal and a lot about heat
When it comes to ccompeting, I can’t be beat

So I’ll ask you a questin, and then I’ll go
Will you sell your soul for a 16.0

For that kind of score, I’d sell her quick
Then sign right here, grinned Old Nick

So he pricked his finger and signed his name
And looked forward to 15 minutes of fame

All that week his plans were laid
The very next week, history would be made

He arrived early to claim a good spot
And said to himself, I’m giving all that I’ve got

He soon had his meat trimmed, ready to go
Then set his temp at 225, low and slow

Next morning, the day was sunny and bright
He checked on his butts, everything was just right

He built up his box with finesse and care
Eafer to learn just how he would fare

His pork was perfect, money muscle too
He even had tubes all arranged, what great ‘que

His heart beat fast, it was time to go
The presenters were ready, time moved slow
And then he heard it, 16.0

Others gathered round, slapped hiis back
He finally achieved all that he’d lacked

Cooks stood in silence as he began to cry
The tears were awkward, the marshal asked why

I know I should be happy with that 16 score
But look at the standings, I’m number 4

I don’t understand, the judges must not like me
I know that box deserved at least 16.3

All that’s left to be paragraphed
Is that deep in Hades, the devil laughed