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The Glutton and the Humble Man - Take Your Place, Say Grace by Bryan Miles Next in line, cow or swine? Baste them up, it's time to dine! I want it all, it's time to eat Every tempting, morsel of meat Filet Mignon, delicious Prime Rib Dripping, sliding, down my bib! Salty bacon, fresh cut steak Instead of a fork, bring a rake Fill my plate, and pile it high Roast it, steam it, bake it, fry; Tender, tasty, loins of meat Freshly killed, it's time to eat And so, the way of the glutton went Time at the table, time well spent He could barely fit in the master's seat Too much belly, too much meat! The humble man, on the other hand Was thin as a bean, a righteous man He always gave thanks, whatever he ate No matter what, was on his plate; Buttered broccoli, black-eyed peas Homemade gravy, melted cheese Mashed potatoes, yes, even steak! Fresh grilled fish, and chocolate cake But the humble man, didn't live to eat; Food is good, but the Lord is sweet! To the glutton, nothing tasted bland Couldn't fit enough food, in the palm of one hand He gobbled it down, like we gobble down sin Burp it all off, then wipe his chin; He would wipe his chin, then wash his face But he never gave thanks, and he never said grace! The humble man, came to visit one day Dirty plates, lined the way With a wooden spoon, he propped the door And there lay the glutton, sprawled on the floor! All of the burgers, the bacon, the beef Not one single vegetable, or stalky green leaf; Had put him where he was, laying flat on his back A gluttonous gorge of a heart attack! Sitting in his mouth, was an apple of red A black and blue bruise, covered his head He looked like a pig, being readied to bake A Pig in a Blanket, for goodness sake! He pigged out in life, now he pigged out in death; A gluttonous gasp, of one last breath! Let this be a lesson, if you sit in his place Even a glutton, should humbly say grace Give thanks for the food, that sits on your plate; Gain gratitude, even if you gain weight! The glutton was buried, in a very wide box No room for his shoes, or even his socks; On his gravestone there stood, an appropriate shrine! One slab of bacon, a cow, and a swine... |
Please contact Bryan Miles at "2termiles@gmail.com" to request permission to use this poem.