I’s a travelin’ man, but that pastime’s gotta stop—
it’s a whole new world.
Now I cannot depart, and if I’m smart
away I will be squirr’led.

I’ll be sippin’ on sangria, starting at 3:00;
when finished, next I’ll go
to pig out on Baked Alaska; gluttony
on food, then booze next I’ll show.

Gonna eat all night, chow Berliners down
till it starts, the heartburn.
I’ll gobble it all, topped with a Ding Dong…
stomach starts to churn.

Cook a Polynesian luau that’s just for me;
I take bite after bite.
Then I walk to the kitchen…prepare quickly
a snack before it’s “good night.”

First I’ll eat all night, pig Berliners down
till it starts, the heartburn.
My dining appalls; it’s worse than King Kong’s—
but humans I spurn.

Cook a Polynesian luau that’s just for me;
I take bite after bite.
It’s a Scotch that I take preprandially
to help whet my appetite.

Yes, I’m a trapped-within man,
lonely trapped-within man,
so: a gastronome man.