Oh my God
I never sod
Sod the catch
Of yesteryear
But if I must
Well I’m unjust
Unjust if I don’t make this clear
There is food
Yes it’s good
Good and all you want to hear
It comes from south
It’s what we’re ‘bout
The taste will tell your tongue, oh dear
Bless your heart
We’re years apart
The gravy, and the mash sets in
You do not know
Anything
Until a Meat and Three Sets In
How the World Should Work 