I can't eat this slime; it taste so wrong to me.
I gotta have some wine to drink;
I'll quaff from a full glass, drip on myself.
It ain't top-shelf; it tastes like smelt,
But it's called "Rhône."
It helps to mask this mass that resembles cornpone.

Ain't meat--what’s this stuff I chew?
I think it tastes like tofu.
It's so vile. . .there's lots of it in my stew.

I think that the time is right for me to find
What is swimming in this slop,
Merged with cumin and thyme
And bay leaves,
If there were meat in here, I'd spy a stew bone.
The vile taste is complemented by a pong
(I've a strong urge for the heaves).

Ain't meat--what’s this stuff I chew?
I think it tastes like a stew
Stuffed with vials of cyanide used for eu[thanasia].

(ocarina solo)

Smell now.
Ain't meat--what’s this stuff I chew?
I would rather chance fugu
Shipped for miles by fishmongers in Fuchu.

But this comestible crap had slid all way
Down toward my calling colon, and my face is turnin' gray.
I'm on the seat,
About to evacuate this horrid treat.
It sounds like a drum-,
Or should I say "bumbeat"?
I wish you had cooked me some meat.

Ain't meat; must be legume stew.
My chink is making a moue--
Backside smile's there no longer. . .
Longin' for the loo.

Wet trou.
An'lly--it is rumblin' through
Unkinked intestinal slough.
Scores my piles as it tumbles in the loo.

Fallin' is an outhouse dump, a slew.
Fallin' from a rout-out rump, a slough.
Don't know why I ate tofu. It keeps
Fallin' in the outhouse, clumps of doo.