Wilbur White, the Waiter

Print
Rate this poem
172 votes

I’m Wilbur White, the waiter,
at the Cafe Turpentine,
where I wait on all the customers
who come inside to dine.

The restaurant’s always empty
for, although it’s rather sad,
our poor chef can’t read a cookbook
so his cooking’s really bad.

You’ll find me every evening
sitting twiddling my thumbs,
as I hope and pray for customers
but no one ever comes.

It’s really very lonely
and the hour grows ever later
as I sit and wait on customers;
I’m Wilbur White, the waiter.

 — Kenn Nesbitt

Copyright © 2000. All Rights Reserved.

Reading Level: Grade 5

Topics: Food Poems, Poems about Kooky Characters

 


Use This Poem

Would you like to use this poem in your classroom? Would you like permission to reprint, record, recite or broadcast this poem, or set it to music? Please click on one of the following links for permissions and reprint rights information: