I made a lovely pasta sauce, a sauce beyond compare,
But when I went to fetch the pasta, the pasta wasn’t there.
Although we had six bags of rice,
And couscous, which is very nice,
And butterbeans (which we’ve used twice),
There was no pasta anywhere.
The carbohydrates called to me. Alas! None could replace
The moment that spaghetti sweetly slaps across my face.
Protecting my fresh shirt in vain,
From blobs of sauce that always stain,
Together forms the sweet refrain
That fills my belly, swells my waist.
I still can’t help but mourn for my slobtastic evening in,
Watching CSI Miami as sauce dribbles down my chin,
And although it makes me thinner
If I sometimes miss my dinner,
Though it makes me quite a sinner
I just can’t quite keep my chin up.
If my boyfriend says I’m being brave I’ll kick him on the shin.