Of food I’m full. . .delicious pies,
Some pancakes made of grain.
Gorged purple mounds of radishes,
A bunch of hooch I’ve drained.
Much fare I scarf,
Uh, where’s the ’carb*?
Hog-fed, this face. . .nosh spree.
The chow was good, swigged. . .lusherhood,
But see the wid’ning me.

Of food I’m full, got killing feet—
They hurt from fat-man stress.
I splurged; much fare I’d always eat;
I’d wrought a pillage fress.
Much fare, my tum,
Uh, where’s the Tums?
Hog-bent on plenty chaw,
Vittles extol, out of control,
Always filling my craw.

Of food I’m full. . .one hero, two
Snorts—liberally imbibe
Much port, then belt another jug,
Incurring diatribes:
“Oh, spare the grub, jug fare, you tub.
Weight’s gone past 3-0-9.
You eat a mess; it’s gobbleness;
You’ve plenty gained, you swine!”

Of booze I’m full, snort Bailey’s Cream
And chase it with twelve beers,
Then ale I’d master. . .swig some Beam. . .
Unslim, a huge-man rear.
Must spare the jug, must spare the grub,
Hog-fed, this face, sloshed spree.
Put down the food and scotch** get-stewed. . .
Unfeasting, crying me.


*bicarbonate of soda
*as in “put an end to”