A good morning repast.
Food that makes the blood stir. Yum, yum, yum!
When I feed and do not drool: dinner!
That meal just is no fun, no, no, no!

[protracted gagging]

Because they're making mule dinner
Chomp down equinity way, bray bray.
I come for fricassee,
But this place has got a mule kitchen
In which they reject soufflé, bray bray. . .
Scoff at crème brulée.

[more gagging]

Hey, hey, little waiter boy,
Ya got any gator, hound, what say?
Even some legs of frog?
I don't think I can keep it down,
Keep lousy equine chow down.

[proto-regurgitation]

Well I'd rather chow down and be gorgin'
In a greasy-spoon café, hey.
Yeah, rather be gorgin,
On some slimy eggs and ham,
Not something that once did bray!
I'm going to be sick because I ate this mule dinner.

[protracted barfing]