On the day of the 8th of July, We invited neighbors to come by For some food and a drink And entice them to think ‘Gosh, what a nice bunch of guys!’
For you do not need to be a clairvoyant To know that our house, while so joyant Can at times be quite loud And so full of a crowd That we may seem, how’d you say?, an annoyance.
So we came up with a way to say ‘thank you’ And to return to them all that they are due. We’d cook food from our homelands, Sell it from our own stands And friendship would surely ensue.
We decided that it would be preferable To call it International Food Festival. The posters were made And the tables were laid We cried out that this one would be best of all!
But no banquet could ever occur Without dishes abound to savor. We worked through the night, And by early sunlight All the tables could not hold anymore.
En masse, our guests all descended To sample what our chefs recommended. But it couldn’t be done Without helpers to come And ensure that our guests comprehended.
As the hours of the day ticked away, Many belts were being forced to give way. The tables unbuckled, The servers untroubled Of leftovers left to throwaway.
Now it’s over, we must all agree A great time was had by attendees. For we all ate and drank And for that we must thank The hard workers of our HdB!