I ate and ate—
hoggish was the domain.
That’s my feeding way.
Lovingly I masticate
“That man is no gourmet!”
that is what some people say.
But I keep fooding—
can’t stop; I’ll be brooding.
Once they were calling “Sooey!”
to the big animal on which I now bite.
I’m buffo for a buffet-fet-fet;
porcine plenty on my plate, plate, plate.
Babybacks, bah! Baby, bac-bac-bac-bacon’s god.
I’ll take never a break, break, break;
get slaked and never brake, brake, brake;
I’ll take never a break, break, break.
Babybacks? Bane, baby. Bac-bac-bac-bacon’s god.

I never miss an eat;
I’m biting on a treat.
Each pig piece gives to me
sweetest ecstasy.
I can’t stand a hambone—
it doesn’t move me, oh no!
To such grub I say “Whoa!”
But I keep fooding—
can’t stop, though I’m crude ’n’
people watch me and say, “Phooey!”
I retort, “Foodie!” in a fit of spite.
I’m beggin’ for a buffet-fet-fet;
for cornucopia, pray, pray, pray.
Horn o’ plenty on my plate, plate, plate.
Babybacks, blech! Tasty bac-bac-bac-bacon’s god.
I’ll take not once a break, break, break;
get slaked and not once brake, brake, brake;
can’t ever take a break, break, break.
Babybacks? Lame, baby. Bac-bac-bac-bacon’s god.

Bac-bac-bac!

I think I’m piling on the pounds, my snout stuffed from the fryers;
Damn, I’m girthy, girthy. . .eating-much churl.
I’m putting on the pounds. Zounds! Bacon-replete.

A pig’s springy tail has a curled end. . .
I like noshing hog
that’s been made into bacon.
It’s so swell; it’s good as hell—bet they eat it down there:
they’d cook it over Hades’ hot flames, flames, flames.

I’m bustin’ from a buffet-fet-fet;
pork a-plenty on my plate, plate, plate.
Lame lamb snacks? Baaahhh! Porcus Dei. Bac-bac-bacon’s god.
I’ll take not once a steak, steak, steak;
Get slaked and not once make, make, make
from the table a break, break, break.
Bacon lack? Flames, raise ’em: bak-bak-bak-bakin’ dog.