Rend 'em as I bite,
They've got honey brushed on and dripping down.
Chewing on those things; if tough, through the gristle I grind.
I snub the boring buns,
I don't want to get started on grain.
Give me food that's flesh; I'll eruct--wait till I've dined.

Baby--yum!--back ribs make me drool for meat;
I am carving these marvels, cutting right through.
Baby--yum!--back ribs are such a gamy treat,
But it's wrong, says PETA crew, to eat-a you.

All day long I think 'bout bandanna'd vaqueros,
Ridin' the range, eatin' dust, and ropin' steers.
They run 'em down and then bring 'em, squealin', to the abattoir
So I can wash 'em down with twelve beers.

Babybacks aren't light as a feather;
They're full of fat, heavily greased.
Eat enough of them, and plug up your heart
Till the pump has ceased; best plump up on healthy feast.