[Brian Allgar]

Nick Holbrook and I have been chewing the fat over this one. Here's what we've come up with so far.

I’m twice the man I used to be,
And working on a third;
My rollicking rotundity
May strike you as absurd,

Yet saucy wenches still cavort,
Despite my monstrous belly;
They find it tickles them to sport
Upon a mound of jelly.

Their mouths agape, my little tarts
Impale themselves with caution
When they discover all my parts
Are strictly in proportion.

So you may call me “tub of lard”,
But ponder, while you scoff,
That even Death will find it hard
To carry Falstaff off.

******************************

“Give me the fat!” cried Mrs Sprat,
“For that’s where all the taste is;
Bring streaky bacon, mutton fat -
To hell with where my waist is -

Beef dripping, lard, and turkey grease,
Just pile it on my platter.
Pork crackling, oily ducks and geese;
Who cares if I grow fatter?

I’m in a gastronomic dream;
A fat-free diet? Shove it!
Bring on the butter and the cream -
Cholesterol? I love it!

My husband wouldn’t touch a speck;
He said that fat could kill.
But then he broke his stupid neck,
So now I eat my fill."