The Fat Man’s Prayer by Victor Buono
Lord, my soul is ripped with riot,
Incited by my wicked diet.
“We are what we eat!” said a wise old man;
And Lord, if that’s true, I’m a garbage can.
I want to rise on Judgment Day, that’s plain;
But at my present weight, I’ll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall,
Into the clutches of cholesterol.
May my flesh with carrot-curls be sated,
That my soul may be poly-unsaturated.
And show me the light, that I may bear witness,
To the President’s Council on Physical Fitness.
And at oleomargarine I’ll never mutter,
For the road to Hell is spread with butter.
And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
And Satan is hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
The Devil is in each slice of baloney;
Beelzebub is a chocolate drop;
And Lucifer is a lollipop.
Give me this day my daily slice,
But cut it thin and toast it twice.
I beg upon my dimpled knees;
Deliver me from jujubes.
And when my days of trial are done,
And my war with malted milks is won,
Let me stand with the heavenly throng
In a shining robe – size 44 long.
I can do it, Lord, if you’ll show to me
The virtues of lettuce and celery;
If you’ll teach me the evils of mayonnaise,
The sinfulness of Hollandaise.
Of Pasta a la Milannaise,
Potatoes a la Lyonnaise.
And crisp-fried chicken from the South,
Lord, if you love me, shut my mouth.
I’ve always heard he was a nice guy.
Hmm, the line I remember is “go to Hell, go to Hell, go to Hell” (that was the big laugh).