These grotesques brandish tines that pierce to drink
While others dine on gents and gals just deceased.
Cuisine ain’t haute; in fact, it's ran-
cid; skunks o’er which trucks ran would keep your palate more pleased.
A repast worse than droppings that Divine one time did taste*—
We’re talkin’ dog doo-doo!
The stench is gross; it’s spoiled; enthralled
And tasting something putrid. . .a vile-lunch crew.

Some are eating picked-out eyes, I would despise
A chance to dine on guys [re]spiring no more.
A glass of wine could not unwind the sense of “Euw!”
My mind and rhin’d abhor.

This practice is outré, not fine this rotten-flesh buffet—
It is demeaning those who
Are dead and being ate by interlopers at the gate
Where interments ensue.

A dining blight—no perfume’d kill the dead,
Rotting flesh stench; the scene’s really quite grue-
some, with those toes so spoiled; uncalled
For is this grub that’s putrid. . .vile-smile lunch crew.
Vile munch crew,
Vile crunch crew.
I’ll munch you!!

*Transvestite actor Divine dined on dog droppings in John Waters’ “Pink Flamingos.”