Lord, My soul is ripped with riot
incited by my wicked diet.
"We Are What We Eat," said a wise old man!
and, Lord, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.

I want to rise on Judgment Day, that's plain!
but at my present weight, I'll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall
into the foul clutches of cholesterol.

At oleomargarine I'll never mutter,
for the road to Hell is spread with butter.
And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
and Satan is hiding in every waffle.

Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
the Devil resides in each slice of baloney,
Beelzebub is a chocolate drop,
and Lucifer is a lollipop.

Give me this day my daily slice
but, cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees,
deliver me from jujubees.

And when my days of trial are done,
and my war with malted milk is won,
Let me stand with the Heavenly throng,
In a shining robe - size 30 long.


[author and source unknown]
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