Chow! You say you’re hungry;
fries and pies just won’t do.
Come on and ply the goose livers,
ply the goose livers
with corn—then fat liver for you.
PETA people worry,
raise a cry and hew.
Hell with ’em—
ply the goose livers
with corn—then there’s foie gras for you.

Cornucopia of corn…goose must be fed—
gullet-stuffed, tier after tier,
until that liver is heavy as lead.
This is going to be a “plein” feed in,
as they might say it in foie gras land.

The goose ain’t imploring you: “Stuff me!”
At least it won’t be stew
after you ply the goose liver, ply the goose liver.
Then fatty richness will ensue.

Cornucopia of corn…goose’ll be fed—
it balloons, like gut from beer.
You will want to spread a dab on bread.
This treat is going to be good eatin’--
animal activists be damned!
You’ll gorge, thinking “Stuff me!”
And that is what you do.
And so you ply the goose liver, ply the goose liver
to your mouth and blissfully chew.

Down it will go and prompt
abdomen to be protruded,
because of the richness—you’ll soon be included
with other Ozempic stickers:
You’ll be able to lose the weight quicker.
So you ply that thin tine of syringe into you.
Get lighter—just stick it in. Then chew.