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I won’t say I’m fat, but my sizeable girth
Is one of the greatest there is on this earth.
My belly goes first, with its ponderous mind,
And I follow on, nearly three feet behind.
My doctor insists that I go on a fast,
And kids call me “Lard Arse” when I wobble past.
My life is a misery, I’m laughed at and taunted
Despite legislation so publicly vaunted.
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On Friday nights, though, I am glad of my weight,
As I oscillate right up to Tolka’s wide gate.
I can’t squeeze through those narrow turnstiles, you see,
So they open the gate and I get in for free.
And all you damned skinnies must pay to get in,
As I finger my ten euro note with a grin.
[Though I spend it of course, on my twice-hourly trips
To the shop for my portions of burger and chips.]