Here in this quiet cool retreat
I think I shall not overeat.
Altho the sandwiches are big,
I will not emulate the pig.
The baked beans? Yes, they are delicious-
But so are all the other dicious.
Please don’t think I’m acting maddish
If I refuse to touch a radish.
Who knows what hidden malady
May lie in things concocted saladly?
Meatloaf, ma’m? I raise my eyes:
I’ve had my meat thru eating flies.
If you don’t mind, I’ll pass on celery-Too
much can raise heck in one’s belery.
As for the chicken and the noodles,
The smallest helping, please, not oodles.
Three kinds of luscious home-baked cake?
I do not relish tummy-ache.
The pies look grand, the peach, the berry,
But I’ll say No to even cherry.
I beg you, girls, don’t feel rebuffed–
I’d rather Just feel full than stuffed.
Picnics come and picnics go–
But I would stick around, you know.
by Ray Romine Friday, July 8, 1949
