Just a little silly poem:

Sir, take a seat,
give me your coat,
your table's over there
You try to sit
where you've been told
he pulls away your chair

You order wine
he brings you tea
you read the menu through
but of all meals that you can see
the most you are allergic to

The clock counts down your time to don't know when
and just as you start to enjoy
the atmosphere there he's again
the silent waiterboy

You say you'd like to stay a while he looks right through your eyes
he helps you rise then drags you out, it's death.
But in disguise