This looks nasty . . . This looks nasty.
It's too nasty . . . to call it a meal.
And the broccoli . . . hasn't any vegetable appeal.

This smells rotten . . . Oh, so rotten,
And the salad's so old - it draws flies.
Red potatoes - that are blue-er than Iowa skies.

What's that graying drek on the platter there?
What could this mystery meat be?
Doesn't look like ham, doesn't look like lamb,
Doesn't look like beef, Doesn't look like meat!

This looks nasty . . . Really nasty.
You could shingle a roof with the cheese.
Is that yogurt? - I do suspect that somebody sneezed.

Fruit feels plastic - It's bombastic
And the cola's as flat as the plains,
Bread with butter - could be rubber mixed with unknown grains.

See the serving maids with buns in their hair.
What could they be serving to me?
Spooning out the slop - Hear it go ka-plop,
Never mop it up.

But, I'm hungry . . . Oh, so hungry.
Though the pizza is grungy and brown,
I'm too hungry . . .- I'll simply hold my nose, and gulp down

Oh, how merry - dysentery!
And the cook swears it was fresh last fall.
I must hurry- Exuse me while I run to the john. . . . .
(Sorry, but when ya gotta go, rhyming's the least of your worries)