His name is Jeff.  He’s a chef.
How can you tell?  By his trousers of course.
When he puts on those checky trousers he’s no longer just Jeff,
But, Jeffry, like Mam used to scream, making herself hoarse
At his idleness, lethargy, laziness, now all in the past
Since a chef he’s become, even though it’s self-classed.

Doesn’t wear one of them tall ‘ats though.
He tried one.  Couldn’t...

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