The biscuits called out, again, last night
“Won’t you like to have a small bite?
We’re your friends, your pals your mates
We come in a lot of delicious tastes
We’re lovely with cheese, with cream & tea
Come take a bite, and you’ll see
We’re lovely with anything,
Or nothing, you’ll agree!”
My resolve was firm, my diet was in control
I had had but two chickens with no seasoning at all
I had once again run, through the valley of desires
I had not had anything for the past couple hours
But, (or so I thought to myself)
A small bite was not too much to ask was it?
A small biscuit (or three) wouldn’t do much harm
Even with a few cheese slices from the farm
And while I was at it, I happened to hear
The pizza in the fridge say “I’m going to waste,
A stale pizza isn’t really bad to taste.
Won’t you spare me the agony
And have a little slice?
With some slices of ham
Won’t that be nice?”
And then the others joined in,
The bread, butter & eggs,
The roast turkey, the leftover dregs
of the Thanksgiving feast
And together they turned me into a beast!
I swear it, mother, it wasn’t my fault
It was the biscuits, the evil biscuits, which started it all!