What a Waist

What a Waist

I could eat a Devon scone with cream and then a curry

If I had Gandhi’s body type I wouldn’t need to worry

I fill my face with pie and mash and Lidl’s own brand pâté

I crave for food, eat like a pig, some people call me Fatty

What a waist

What a waist

I could eat the contents of a book by Fanny Craddock

I could eat three bags of chips, mushy peas and battered haddock

I could eat a sack of rice without fear of constipation

I could eat the ticket man at Fulham Broadway station

What a waist

What a waist

I could eat sawse camelyne as ate by Geoffrey Chaucer

A cup of milky tea, two spoons, digestives in the saucer

I like toast and marmalade, collected all the gollies

I draw the line at Brussels sprouts and cabbages and caulis

What a waist

What a waist

I once spent a pony on lasagne from Weight Watchers

It ain’t got proper meat in it so I got spots and blotches

My old lady made me some nosh with quinoa and spinach

But when she wasn’t looking I gave it to the dog to finish

What a waste

What a waste

I could eat Coquilles Saint-Jacques with eggs and beans for dinner

I could wrap some lettuce round Mars Bars to make me thinner

I could eat just anything between two lumps of bread

If I couldn’t eat the things I love I might as well be dead

What a waist

What a waist

Image:

My own photograph of chips, mushy peas and battered haddock.