My soul is ripped with riot
incited by my wicked diet.
"We Are What We Eat," said a wise old man!
and, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.
I want to rise and feel good 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.
incited by my wicked diet.
"We Are What We Eat," said a wise old man!
and, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.
I want to rise and feel good 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 sticks be sated,
that my soul may be poly-unsaturated
And show me the light, that I may bear witness
to the President's Council on Physical Fitness.
And at oleomargarine I'll never mutter,
for the road to Plumpness is spread with butter.
And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
and evil is hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
the bane is in each slice of baloney,
Fat hides in a chocolate drop,
and sugar is in a lollipop.
Give me this day my daily slice
but, cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees,
deliver me from jujubees.
And when my days of trial are done,
and my war with malted milk is won,
Let me stand with the model throng,
In a shining robe--size 5-6 long.
I can do it friend, If you'll show to me,
the virtues of lettuce and celery.
If you'll teach me the evil of mayonnaise,
of pasta a la Milannaise
potatoes a la Lyonnaise
and crisp-fried chicken from the South.
I pray if you love me, shut my mouth.
~ author unknown ~
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