I've got some strictures 'bout what I'll do
When I'm at luncheon and sweets ensue.
My vittles sparing. . .angst, a glycemic taboo.
The only color I'll dare is brown--
Only pure cane's what I'll have around.
I've got a sweet tooth
That wears my enamel down.

I've got some strictures; I've got restrictions.
I must restrict, sure, what is coursin' round my cells.
I need a doctor to do a stick here
So he can look up my glucose le-vels.

He'll use no tourniquet; my blood rebounds.
And terse I'm not with screaming sounds.

Just turbinado, please,
I think nice turbinado, please,
In meals and drinks, bro. . . .

No secs,
No glugs
Of wine
No Twinkies

No gum
No gin,
No hooch
Just sugar that's dark.

Everywhere around me lurks refined danger
Everywhere I look for my favorite: cane pure.
I just want turbinado, please. . . .