---

Robert W Service - The Battle Of The Bulge
Work rating: Medium

This year an ocean trip I took, and as I am a Scot
And like to get my money`s worth I never missed a meal.
In spite of Neptune`s nastiness I ate an awful lot,
Yet felt as fit as if we sailed upon an even keel.
But now that I am home again I`m stricken with disgust;
How many pounds of fat I`ve gained I`d rather not divulge:
Well, anyway I mean to take this tummy down or bust,
So here I`m suet-strafing in the
                    Battle of the Bulge.
No more will sausage, bacon, eggs provide my breakfast fare;
On lobster I will never lunch, with mounds of mayonnaise.
At tea I`ll Spartanly eschew the chocolate éclair;
Roast duckling and péche melba shall not consummate my days.
No more nocturnal ice-box raids, midnight spaghetti feeds;
On slabs of pâté de foie gras I vow I won`t indulge:
Let bran and cottage cheese suffice my gastronomic needs,
And lettuce be my ally in the
                    Battle of the Bulge.

To hell with you, ignoble paunch, abhorrent in my sight!
I gaze at your rotundity, and savage is my frown.
I`ll rub you and I`ll scrub you and I`ll drub you day and night,
But by the gods of symmetry I swear I`ll get you down.
Your smooth and smug convexity, by heck! I will subdue,
And when you tucker in again with joy will I refulge;
No longer of my toes will you obstruct my downward view . . .
With might and main I`ll fight to gain the
                    Battle of the Bulge.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.