Ooh, many smoke-’em carp have I pulled from the river,
ooh, many low-cooked sole have I pulled from the sea.
Shoot game? You bet! And then sauté with rice.
The things we chew for lunch,
the things we chew for brunch.

Communion wafers ain’t fer gobblin’. . .not pan dulce;
they ain’t real grub. . fer transubstantiate-atone.
I’d rather turnovers baked golden brown.
The things we chew for lunch,
the things we chew and munch.

Like wokking din of grain and some roe,
hen, hare—fo’ squares—roux, pho,
then a squealin’ tyke from the sty’s sliced and fryin’.
Ham I’m cookin’; add some Spam fer a surprise.
Not slim I’ll be on cake sup.
and for hors d’oeuvre, I will bake pup.

Fooood! Ewe, hake, peas. . .lunch good.
Fooood! Stew, gullet way.
Fooood! Fondue with what once caterwauled.

Like wokking din of grain, potatoes,
hen, hare—fo’ squares—stew, pho,
then a squealin’ tyke from the sty’s sliced and fryin’.
Ham I’m cookin’; add some Spam fer a surprise.
Not slim I’ll be on cake sup.
and for hors d’oeuvre, I will bake pup.

Fooood! Ewe, hake, peas. . .lunch good.
Fooood! Stew, gullet way.
Fooood! Fondue with what once spat and crawled.

A compote, fries, good curry, elk—give me gustation—
some ghee; in dig, amply but ditch nasty chewed parts.
Then, after all this, lust for conch ’n’ fries.
The things we chew for lunch,
the things we chew for brunch,
the things we chew ’n’ munch,
the things we chew ’n’ crunch.
The things we chew for lunch,
then wash ’em down with punch.
The things we chew for lunch.