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Robert L. Martin

Glutman

Herman Glutman of large proportions,
laying in a pile of pies’n fortunes,
reaching for his dinner at half past eight
with his belly hang’n out and feet out straight.
 
A man with his hand in the handy ham,
a mind with a sign of the glutton kind,
a gut and a butt with a studded strut,
a face with a taste’n wasted haste.
 
Herman dives into a cake like a mad diver,
into the core like a yummy pastry rider,
swimming in the sugar with mouth wide open,
coming up for a minute to get some oxygen.
 
A man with a plan to eat all he can,
pile it up with a smile and eat in style,
lay’n on the floor for evermore,
and stuff’n his gut like a dinosaur.
 
With pies and cakes up to his ears,
full speed ahead and shift’n gears,
kick’n out there in pastry paradise,
his flabby lips get’n their exercise,
glutmen go as the day grows old.
 
Herman Glutman,
thou art quite the glutton.

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