Ain’t ground round, this shit. If for real food you’re searchin’,
better bypass fast-food gastro-gaffes passed by,
’cause they’re worthless if you’re seeking a good repast. . .
that ain’t meat that’s complementing transfat fries.

You pay the cost when downs the gullet they slide.

Intestines and byproducts such as tails prevail
and portions of pigs that emit porcine farts.
Ingestion of this mess is an error,
so don’t go there and have the fare.
Some pink slime for your dime. . .don’t even ask!
When you’re around downtown and go in—quick, depart!

Subs you’re packing in—they’re also an ill sup.

Dine crap: beef? Nay! This stuff made of rejects with names
such as gristle, hooves. . .behooves you not to start.
No one knows just what this junk is holdin’—
is it cow ’r rats expired?
With unhealthy fat it’s surely larded.
All in all, nasty stuff on which I’d not embark.

Floor sweepings with rat turds and pieces of tree bark
and man’s best friend, found dead, no more able to bark
are just a few of the treats that you’ll have in store
once you have found a place and walked in through the door.
I used to go, but I ain’t coming back no more.
I hope that you too will learn fast food to abhor.
There are so many other options to explore,
like marvelous mariscos at El Pescador.