|Lord, my soul is ripped with riot |
incited by my wicked diet.
"We are what we eat," said a wise old man!
And, Lord, if that's true, I'm a garbage can !
I want to rise on Judgment Day, that's plain,
But, at my present weight, I'll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall
Into the clutches of cholesterol !
At margarine I'll never mutter
For the road to hell is paved with butter.
And cream is cursed, and cake is awful,
And Satan lurks in every waffle !
Give me this day my daily slice,
But cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees,
Deliver me from jujubes please !
And when my days of dieting are done,
And my war with Snickers bars is won,
Let me stand with the heavenly throng,
In a shining robe...size seven, long !
I can do it, Lord, if You'll show to me,
The virtues of lettuce and celery.
Teach me the evil of mayonnaise...
Of pasta a la Milanaise, potatoes a la Lyonnaise...
And crisp-fried chicken from the south ...
Lord, if you love me... shut my mouth !