Whenever I wolf down too much food, yeah,
All my gut peeks through--
Appalling buttoned dome.
Down the gullet I've thrown
To my gut much mullet stew.

And when I gobble Hershey Kisses, yeah,
My gut's peeking through.
It dips from too much beer,
Burgers with mayo smeared.
I should be dismissing food.

Oh, just some sashimi
Wouldn't be any problem at all,
But the beer that I swill
Is about three feet tall.
Plus, my gut has swallowed three, yeah:
Three thousand big calories.

Gluttony keeps me on my keister, yeah.
From my gut comes doo.
I'm sitting here alone,
Sprawled out on the throne.
Nature calls, I gotta poo.

On the flame there could be
Hen, never raised as Butterball,
And a salad with dill,
No dressing at all.
Then my gut just might recede, yeah,
If I cut down on the feed. No!
I've got gustatory needs, yeah.
That's why I look like Boss Tweed.*

Mmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!!!! [sound of food being savored]