It shimmers and shines,
It wobbles on its plate,
Anemic and lackluster, 
You pay the tourist rate.

Limp and torpid,
It’s not a treat,
Rather;
a crushing culinary defeat.

A thousand serves every day,
Slab after slab;
slops on the waiter’s tray,
Dear tourist;
to Hestia you better pray. 

Dolos crafts a deceptive feat,
Laughing at his Moussaka;
missing its divine treat,
Bathed in grease,
No Greeks would eat!