It's so sad – your food don't taste like before.
Yes, it's so sad,
But my navel is gonna need some other fillin'.
It's so sad your quiche just fell apart.
It has somethin' growing.
And I wonder when your Betty Crocker vanished.
Brought out all the condiments.
What's that flavor and leather scent?
Let's see how much swill will get past,
Before you mame us.

It's so sad we,
Ate your bacon.
So sad “Kiss the Cook” won't mean anything,
Ever again.
It's so sad you,
Burned the bagels.
Aunt Jemima hates you.
She pans your cakes.
You cannot bake.
Such a sin!

It's so sad you,
Think you cook so good.
Yeah, you and Kraft foods.
But your cuisine makes us a little bit naus-e-ous.
It's so sad you,
Hate the way we spew.
You think it's messy.
But something in your food just brings it out of us.

It's so sad
We ate your bacon
So sad “Shoot the Chef” now means everything.
Say it again.
It's so sad you,
Scorched the Steakums.
Wolfgang Puck will rate you.
He hates your duck.
You've just been Puck'd.
Such a sin!

You studied in Paris? – Oh, puh-leease!
Neighbors just dispatched the Food Police.
Toxic fumes are wafting down the street.
Can you blame them?