I don't eat bangers and mash, Gravy, bubble, and hash, Or fish - fried or otherwise.
I avoid casserole-steak stew, Sheep as lamb or ewe, Or sausages of any sort at all.
There are no burgers on my grill, (The thought of which does make me ill), And God forbid the hellish hot-dog.
Instead, I have my greens, My pulses and my beans, And a fruity composition, head to toe.
And although what's in my freezer, May be no great crowd-pleaser, I refuse to be a muncher of meat.
It is not for my health, Or for saving towards huge wealth, And as for the environment, pah, who needs it?
No, I just really don't like plants, And all that greenery they grants, Do away with it all, forever, says I!
So I've got no room for meat, With all the veg I've got to eat - Call me Hercules of the garden variety.
Now if you don't mind, I'll be off, There are some leaves I've got to scoff, As you can see, it is all going, Quite... To plan.