Poem -

THE SKILLET KILLER

 
In America I think they are called a skillet 
A kitchen utensil for cooking a steak fillet
In England we call them a frying pan 
Whatever it's called can knock out a man

Two crushing blows aimed at the head
Can make a man literally finish up dead
A speculative story I read was the skillet killer
Her husband wanted mint ice cream she vanilla

Never argue with a lady who has a skillet
If she doesn't like anything she will kill it 
Fellas beware would be my advice to you
The speculative story could end up to be true

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