He’s so heavy—
feeding’s all.
He cheers when his wife cries
each night’s supper call.

Piles of food fried
go to his gut,
which makes him large and round.
Yikes! The bridge, groanin’, Tubby crossing—
structure’s sagging down.
Yikes! The bridge, groanin’, Tubby crossing—
it just might fall down.

Eats twelve pounds of trout
as a little treat.
When mealtime calls, he’ll lard
piles of comfort food.

High weight from tartes,
then largeness comes. . .
pan dulce and ground round.
Yikes! The bridge, moanin’, Tubby crossing—
structure’s sagging down.
Yikes! The bridge, moanin’, Tubby crossing—
it just might fall down.

Kale? Not! Fist is curled
up with pie
plus fries and buns to dine;
puffs with cream are on the way.

See how he dines
and his paunch distends. . .
a great, not slight, behind.
Yikes! The bridge, moanin’, Tubby crossing—
stresses structure’s spine.
Yikes! The bridge, groanin’, Tubby crossing.
Span needs a lifeline!