Just one more bacon butty,

then tomorrow he may diet;

he has no love for salad,

but might eat it if you’d fry it.

He’ll have fish and chips for dinner,

and I’ve got a sneaky hunch

that he won’t be getting thinner,

‘cause he had more chips at lunch.

Then at supper it’s steak pudding

with a mound of mash and beans,

till his belly is protruding

like those Bu...

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