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Lord, my soul is
ripped with riot,
Incited by my
wicked diet.
“We are what we
eat,?said a wise man.
Lord, if that’s
true, I’m a garbage can.
I want to rise
on Judgment Day, that’s plain,
But at my
present weight I’ll need a crane.
So grant me
strength that I may not fall
Into the
clutches of cholesterol.
May my flesh
with carrot curls be sated,
That my soul may
be polyunsaturated.
And show me the
light that I may bear witness
To the
President’s Council on Physical Fitness.
And eleo
margarine I’ll never mutter
For the road to
hell is spread with butter.
And cream is
cursed, and cake is awful,
And satan is
hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles
lurks in provolone,
The devil is in
each slice of bologna.
Beelzebub is a
chocolate drop
And Lucifer is a
lollypop.
Give me this
day, my daily slice
But cut it thin
and toast it twice.
I beg upon my
dimpled knees,
Deliver me from
Ju Jubees
And when my days
of trial are done
And my war with
malted milks is won
Let me stand
with the saints in heaven
In a shining
robe, size thirty-seven !
I can do it,
Lord, if You’ll show to me
The virtues of
lettuce and celery
If You’ll teach
me the evil of mayonnaise
The sinfulness
of hollandaise
And pasta
Milanese
And potatoes ?
la Lyonnaise,
And crisp fried
chicken from the South.
Lord, if You
love me,?
SHUT MY MOUTH !
- Author's
name forgotten. |
