Some people call me "stuff-face chowboy," yeah,
Some call me the "gorger of lunch."
Some people call me "more eats,"
'cause I seek out some pommes frites, tongue for brunch.

People talk about my waistline--
Tape measure plays too long; that's so wrong.
But give me curry, baby, more curry,
And I'm right there, right there. Light fare? Nope--spare no scone.

'cause I love picnics
And I love dinner,
I love luncheon,
Ain't gettin' thinner.
I'll taste some mousse; sic on that bun.

Stuff from the roaster,
From the toaster. . .
I look like the poster
Child symbolizing the glutton.

Gorge at cuke fest, and I never will cease;
I really love fresh peaches,
Madly shake the trees.

Lunchin', brunchin', lunchin', brunchin', lunchin', brunchin',
All the time
Ooh, meat's tasty--
You sure show me a good dine.

'cause I love pig, curds. . .
Have some for dinner.
I love munchin';
Ain't gettin' thinner.
I'll taste some moose; sic on that bun.

'cause I'm a nosher
And a drink slosher,
But I am not kosher. . .
Mix dairy, meat with abandon.

People talk about my baseline
Calorie count--it's wrong.
I'm gonna scurry, I'll scurry and hurry; wanna
Eat out of house and home.

Gorge at cuke fest until I am replete.
I really love fleshed pigs' feet,
Gladly taste that treat.

Luncheon munchin', brunchin', crunchin', drunk with punch 'n'
Malt 'n' wine.
Too eat-crazy--
Yo, give me Roquefort and swine!