Burn out is a problem that has never bothered me/That's because I never took my job too seriously/The only thing that wearies me and causes much malaise/is watching New York Giants play on the odd Sundays.
The Paycheck Protection Program/attracted parasites/who fraudulently took some/very hungry bites/Mismanaged and exhausted/the fund is now so barren/there's nothing left to do/but stand around a-swearin'.
The Sunday dinners of my teens/full of rolls and lima beans/with a roast and taters, too/is but a nostalgic view/of a time when plenty sat/on the land like butterfat/cream pies bubbled in the stove/hams were studded with much clove/Gravy boats sailed happily/on a salted, fatty sea/Relish trays were large affairs/We all ate like millionaires/Then the calories barged in/and eating well became a sin/Nowadays a piece of fish/or boiled tofu in a dish/with a dab of cottage cheese/(not enough to feed dead fleas)/is what Sunday's all about/My Sabbath is a day of drought!
I'm dreaming of lemon bars; how about you?
So chewy and tart; they're a heavenly goo!
When I try to make 'em, the crust gets all burnt.
You'd think at my age I'd have finally learnt
to go to the store for this succulent treat,
so I never mess with the eggs, flour, heat --
an old man like me should be pampered, and spared
the making of food that has constantly erred.
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