Havin' a larf?
It's a tureen of Sheba.
I shall haz barf
With me belly full of old fur ballz.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha
Bring me a dish of the cheeze-covered burgerz;
No cutz, slicez, prime-flaked micez,
Chunks in wavy streamz of gravy
Plucked from the counterz at Waitroze
When the new Range Rover's brimming over
Full of tasty goodiez for the two-legged fuddy-duddiez
With their bottlez of vin doodah and their posh organic quinoa
They can shove their packs of Sheba up the land of Entamoeba
Give me rendered cattle, cheeze in a bun
Or watch the fun.

Can't get the staff—
It's a bowl full of Whiskaz!
I shall haz laff
With their curtainz and me own sharp clawz.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha
Where is me fix of the cheeze-burger lolness?
No wet pouches from cheap slouches
Crunchy dry stuff reeks like stale guff
Grabbed off the pallets at Wilko
When the rusty hatchback's full of six packs:
Fizzy own-brand lager for their shotz of Meister Jager
With their content-boasting tablez on their reminiscent labelz
And their two-for-one on offerz for those dozy cheap-fag cougherz
Give me phat cheeze burgerz, nine out of ten,
Or face the Hun.