In the garbage, a feast o’ tasty
Throwaways that make luscious food.

Oh, won’t you come with me
For waste viands?
Oh, won’t you come with me,
Dumpster brigands?
Tasty viands!

In the garbage, a feast o’ luncheon
Thrown away by some lunkhead dude.
In the garbage some veal that’s tasty—
“Gross,” some boast—a bourgeois attitude.

Oh, won’t you lunch with me
On rancid ham.
Oh, won’t you lunch with me. . .
A can of Spam. . .
Green eggs and Spam.

In the garbage, a feast o’ dumpin’s—
“Gross,” some boast and won’t touch such food.
In the garbage, a feast o’ dumplin’s.
Don’t chew roast in which the hue has blued!

Oh, won’t you brunch with me
On moldly yams?
Oh, won’t you crunch your teeth
On half-full cans?
Teeth break, be damned!

In the garbage, a feast o’ something
Whose identity does occlude.
In the garbage, a feast o’ something
From which maggots and rat hairs protrude.

Oh, won’t you “chunks” with me?
So plunge your hand
And blow those chunks with me,
And then let’s scram. . .
On the lamb lam.