Strange things in my soup,
That`s what I found there.
Little tiny things
That move around there.
Looking down I see,
They`re looking up at me.
Strange things can be seen,
They`re scattered sparsely.
Strange things that are green,
But are not parsely.
In my bowl they`ve made
Their little aquacade.
Soup was meant to be
Completely free of all extraneous debris
Except for now and then a noodle or some rice
But these things aren`t nice.
See them swimming, splashing, thriving,
Holy smoke, they`re scuba diving.
In my bouillabaisse
I looked and then I
Saw a tiny face
With large antennae
And I heard him say,
`Ooh, the soup is good today.`
I let out a whoop,
I hollered, `Waiter, there are Strangers in my soup!`
And when he came I said, `Now I`m a connoisseur,
I ordered soup de jour.`
He said, `Look, I`m just a waiter,
You need an exterminator.
You ordered soup de jour,
I knew you dug soup.
I brought the soup de jour,
Today it`s bug soup.
That explains the group
Of strangers in your soup.`