Fries, fries, a delicacy that you chew,
Fries, fries, I wash ’em down with beer I brew.
Fears, fears, I should have fears and fries-eschew,
Fears, fears I don’t have, and I will fress-chew.

Someday they’re gonna be trans-free,
Still right now, they’re my prime chow.
Fries, fries are breakin’ my heart.

The best ones are those than aren’t curled,
At least, that is what they say.
If I could just be a smart churl,
I would push them away.

Fries, fries, I should leave ’em, and yet I stay,
Fries, fries, I gotta have ’em every day.
I taste ’em and my friends goad me
As each day I’m chowin’ down.
Fries, fries are wastin’ my heart.

Someday they’re gonna be trans-free;
Now they comprise my prime chow.
Fries, fries are makin’ me fart.

I drink with ’em beer, and farts hurl,
And you’re aggrieved as fumes stray
And into your nasal parts swirl—
They reek; you run away.

Fly, fly—“Arrgh!”—Fly far away,
Smell’s rancid in a grievous way.
Fly, fly—it ain’t what you’d call a nosegay.

You pray, today I’ll be BLAT!-free,
Or if there’s one there’ll be sound. . .
“Si-lent, fie!
Stop makin’ those farts,
It’s a nasal POW! making those farts,
Oh no! You’re still breakin’ those farts,
Breakin’ those farts!”