Well, where oh where can my pastry be?
This porker took it ’way from me.
He’s 4-0-7 and his gut fills the hood—
He’s gonna eat my pastry then seize my corn curls.

He is stout, lotta weight, larger than a car;
Out he is piggin’ on Mars bars.
Carries a load, razes bread;
This butterball is way overfed.
He cannot stop once he’s first had a bite;
He’ll never forego dessert delight.
The fries in piles, the bulging ass,
His plate’s fast cleaned. . .a third repast.

Well, where oh where are my baby b’s?
This porker took ’em ’way from me.
He’s 5-0-7 and his gut fills the hood;
He’s gonna eat my baby’s then seize my pork curls.

There’s pie to grope when he is chowin’ down;
He’s three people when you count the pounds.
Something warm is flowing to his thighs—
It’s the pastry that from my hands he pries.
He’s ripped off my bread and stuffed it in his head. . .
Won’t be parting from his vittles pile.
He svelte? Big nope! A Hershey kiss is bliss.
He’s found the grub. . .a meal’s never missed.
The pounds go on and the belt’s holding too tight—
He’ll nosh a lot. . .love at first bite.

Well, where oh where is my Tastee Freeze?
This gorger took it with no “please?”
He’s 6-0-7 and his gut fills the hood;
He’s gonna eat my Tastee then seize my cheese curls.

Tooooooooooooooast!
Rooooooooooooooast!