by porfle

Lard makes us happy, I don’t understand
An army that doesn’t have Lard Command.
Lard is our comfort, a guiding hand
Surely we’re lost without Lard Command.

Take out our organs, but don’t put them back
Fill in the holes with the lard that we lack.
Gather the guns, the bombs, and the knives
We go into battle, for lard and our lives.

Lard feeds our babies, lard makes them strong
Fill them to bursting with lard all day long.
Lard’s like a dinosaur wrecking the town
Lard is the same, be you princess or clown.

Lard hits the jackpot, I can’t comprehend
Why anyone wouldn’t choose lard before friend.
Lard cures diseases, and makes the buds bloom
Lard is the best thing to find in a tomb.

(song interlude)
What if lard was one of us
Just a pard like one of us
Just a blister full of pus
On the butt of Old Man Gus.
(end song interlude)

(different poem interlude)
Would you like to be sealed in a barrel of lard?
You could do it today, it wouldn’t be hard.
If that’s what you want, then here, here’s my card
I can help you get sealed in a barrel of lard.

Would you like to be placed on a bed of steel spikes?
And have all of your screams amplified by live mikes?
Is this one of your heart’s fondest fantasy likes?
I can help you end up on a bed of steel spikes.

Would you like to be locked in a cage full of hogs?
That haven’t been fed, and were beaten with logs?
And then set upon briskly by big, rabid dogs?
I can engineer such an encounter with hogs.
(end different poem interlude)

Lard is our husband, our wife, and our lover
We are all agents for Lard Undercover.
Lard is our cause as we make our last stand
Death to non-members of Lard Command.

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