Good, you know, fly game—
In my maw it’s so pleasant.
Kill some more. . .so tame.
No macaw! Give me pheasant.
It isn’t strong—
No gamy pong.
Luscious taste lingers so long,
Peerless pheasant.

Not strong, but not bland
In my maw, it’s so pleasant.
Not strong, and tastes grand
In my craw, it’s so pleasant.
It makes my day;
It ain’t filet,
So, hey, how do you feel, eh,
Eating pheasant?

Thyme-rubbed, golden brown,
Time to grab a piece,
Tines stuck in that part.
No one’s begging, “Peas!”
Begging “Peas!!”

Viands, some more,
No peas. . .abhor!
A nice Rhône, a generous pour—
Beer’s unpleasant.

Good nutritious game
In my maw, and I fress it.
Kill more of the same;
With some slaw I will dress it.
I’ve said “so long”
To gamy pong—
Slaughtered doe’s strong, rubs me wrong;
Deer’s unpleasant.