Corned Beef
What's the ideal food
If you've got friends round for dinner
And you want their stay to be brief
Corned beef
It's not made up from the rump of the cow
But the head
And the feet
And the teeth
(And those bits that hang down underneath)
Corned beef
It's imported from Argentina
Where somehow they manage
To concertina
A whole cow
Into a tin like that
It's my belief
They don't use beef
But rat
Or cat
Or bat
Corned beef
Any animal in such a state must have had a life full of grief
Corned beef
It hasn't even got corn in
Every can should carry a government health warning
'Cause you never know what you might catch
When you sit down and eat
Corned beef
I recommend you use a sheath
And me
I didn't want my plate of
Corned beef
So I gave it to my mate
Keith
Instead
And now he's dead
And what were the last words that he said
Corned beef
Go back to poems