The Caprocian

Some eastern land he swore, as the family waited for food
Some foreign language he swore, but it was one I could speak
And the cook had promised flavorsome dishes
Yet hours later the awkward conversation was the only thing touching the mouth

And they waited, the miracle of food hadn't appeared
And the origin of our friend was unknown
In a city district where all there was were restaurants and people selling food
not a bite

Some confusing half babble and positive nods
We were going hungry while our patience was getting overfed.