I was lost in the jungle last Saturday night.
My makeup was smudgy, my hair was a fright,
I was starving and thirsty and crawling along
When I heard an odd noise, not unlike a gong.
So I thirstily crawled and disheveledly waddled
While thinking of water, whether flowing or bottled,
‘Til I came to the source of the almost-gong sound
And was faced with a fellow who was quite musclebound.
I spoke to the fellow with a dry-throated yelp,
“Dear Fellow, I’m starving and in need of some help.”
The fellow was friendly, and offered me food.
“Here’s what I’ve got. Just take what sounds good.”
He offered me me larvae and elephant tongue,
Some organic fungus “with plenty of fung,”
Some mandible stew, which made me quite skittish,
And some discolored mush. (I assumed it was British).
What a predicament! What could I do?
I swallowed a spoonful of mandible stew.
Well, I’m still alive, and I’m glad that I am,
But I wish I had waited ’til he brought out the ham.
