Me scarf the chow, gobble by the pound—
They’re flash-fried, fat-imbued,
Feed-restrictionless food.
It ain’t fashionable to have them fixed mashable.

Vexed I’m by beans; I’m carbs amorous. . .
Abjure fer sure greens.
I can bloat till I bust; I don’t dine so nice.
It’s a repast that ain’t light,
But they are so tasty, fries!

Get your biggest pan
And with transfatted oil flood it. . .
Papas, papas fritas.
Tasty está esta comida, acabo comí. ..
Gorge papas, papas fritas

Paw-mitts when I dine;
I slobber and slop like a hogging swine,
Staining all my raiment; painful for those lunching with me. . .
Papas, papas fritas.

Sometimes they’re curled, or straight as a hoe.
Svelteness—nope! You’ll git lard-
ed and artery-scarred, and be heavy-set.
Fries diner, bigger—you bet!

Don’t let ’em burn, or else rancid they’ll turn;
When done, pat ’em dry for less grease on each fry.
I like more than rice. Lunch, it’s “fie!” on cherry pie;
They’re the apple of my eye.

Get your biggest pan
And with pails of tallow flood it. . .
Papas, papas fritas.
Tasty esta comida, pero no bueno por mí. . .
Gorge papas, papas fritas

Maw blitz when I dine;
I slobber and slop like a gobbling swine,
Staining all my raiment; gaining weight by a whole bunch, me!
Papas, papas fritas.

Cheap food I cram in, I rudely stow.
Champ, champ transfat bits cooked in oozy flow. . .
Won’t stop for anyone.
They’re fat-thick; this is filling fun!

Get your biggest pan—
Don’t stint, I ain’t on a budget. . .
Papas, papas fritas.
Tasty esta comida, pero me hace puerco, ¡sí!
Gorge papas, papas fritas.

Paw-mitts when I dine;
I slobber and slop like a truffling swine,
Staining all my raiment; craving “entertatement,” that’s me. . .
Papas, papas fritas.