It looks as if my chin were stung
Bilaterally, and I got two bumps.
In the middle where the two bumps splay.
There is a little
Valley that don't see light of day.
When I dine, have a repast,
Wine runs down through there mighty fast.
Sometimes at luncheon and sometimes brunch,
The crumbs from my munch
Get stuck there I have a hunch.

Because I am a dimpled man,
I expect that in there is some oat bran.
Yes, I am a dimpled man.
Resting place for gustation,
Such as Spam.

I'd find some crust. . .might be mighty old. . .
Have a yucky touch of mold.
Some congealed tallow from a fry
And a crispy, crackly crumb
From a long-ago pie.

Because I am a dimpled man,
I expect that in there is some roast ham.
Yes, I am a dimpled man. . .
Resting place for gustation,
Such as jam.

Soy sauce is what I seek on the shelf,
To enliven stir-fried whelk.
But way too much sauce I apply;
As I eat, some of it runs
In that chin rift to dry.

Because I am a dimpled man,
I expect that in there is some roast lamb
Yes, I'm dimpled like Kirk, an'
To do an excavation,
That's my plan.