Do not tell me it tastes very nice
When delivering the verdict upon the rice
You know not of the evil grains
That are constantly causing me such pain
I have studied the pages of textbook cooking
Tried Measured amounts, and added without looking
But echo do the screams of hopeless thunder
When unveiled is my basmati blunder 

It's over cooked or under on this occasion 
Taste is lacking the salt verification 
I added more water, then next time reduced 
It went from mushy to looking abused 
I tried different pots but it just burnt to waste
Have you ever had long grain with a wood-fire taste? 
Those insect-like shapes they giggle at me
In their thousands they stare and poke fun at me 

My nemesis it be but I won't give up
I shall measure the treasure in counted cup
Trial and error and error again
I shall conquer the rice of every grain
Silenced shall be the mimicking meal
Fluffy and perfect will be its feel
Alas in taste some may call a fault 
Cos my frigging other nemesis is blooming salt.