You think I’m steeped, full and have had enough
Of silly lunch songs.
But I keep on pounding ’em out fast as I can go.
I merely want to fill the world with fill-me lunch songs
About prawns and fat
And pie and roe, so here I go again.

My lunch tunes.

I’m a bran fan, a feeding panoply—pan, sí, sí!
(My lunch tunes)
Always give me more—need a cornucopi-a before me
(My lunch tunes)
But dog and rat—
There I won’t go,
And haggis—no! Food sin.

Lunch can be buns, also Minute
Rice, ice cream; I’ll eat nearly all
That nears a pot and then goes in it,
Long as it fills me, lunch it must fill me
“Lunch songs are silly,” I scrawl.

Now can I tell you about my lunch songs?
Cowshit don’t smell as lousy as lunch songs.

Now that I tell you about my lunch songs
(My lunch tunes)
Now I’ll embell-ish this lousy lunch song.

My lunch tune.
I’m a bran fan, an eating-panoply parody
(My lunch tunes)
Always give me more—heat in a pan for me pan dulcee!
(My lunch tunes)
I’m a bran fan and feeding famine-free, famished me.
Cow tastes so swell. . .abound in my lunch songs.
Always give me more—I’m on a pancake-spree parody!

Cow goes quite well with a ground-round lunch song.


I think that people’ve had more than enough
Of fill-me lunch songs
About cooking rounds, beef, crab from sea, vittles that grow.
I merely want to fill the world with silly lunch songs.
But wrong is that—
’tain’t right, I know,
But. . .sure to go again.