A DIET PRAYER
Lord, My soul is ripped with riot
incited by my wicked diet.

"We Are What We Eat," said a wise old man!
Lord, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.
To rise on Judgment Day, it's plain!
With my present weight, I'll need a crane.

So grant me strength, that I may not fall
into the clutches of cholesterol.
May my flesh with carrot-curls be dated,
that my soul may be poly unsaturated

And show me the light, that I may bear witness
to the President's Council on Physical Fitness.
And at oleo margarine I'll never mutter,
for the road to Hell is spread with butter.

And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
and Satan is hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
the Devil is in each slice of baloney,

Beelzebub is a chocolate drop,
and Lucifer is a lollipop.
Give me this day my daily slice
Cut it thin and toast it twice.

I beg upon my dimpled knees,
deliver me from jujube's.
And when my days of trial are done,
and my war with malted milk is won,

Let me stand with Heavenly throng,
In a shining robe -- size 30 long.
I can do it Lord, if you'll show to me,
the virtues of lettuce and celery.

Teach me the evil of mayonnaise,
And of pasta a la Milanese
and crisp-fried chicken from the South.
Lord, if you love me, shut my mouth.

Amen

A College Student’s Night Before Christmas
A College Student’s Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before finals, and all through the college,
The students were praying for last minute knowledge.
Most were quite sleepy, but none touched their beds,
While visions of essays danced in their heads.

Out in the taverns, a few were still drinking,
And hoping that liquor would loosen their thinking.
In my own apartment, I had been pacing,
And dreading exams I soon would be facing.

My roommate was speechless, his nose in his books,
And my comments to him drew unfriendly looks.
I drained all the coffee, And brewed a new pot,
No longer caring hat my nerves were so shot.

I stared at my notes, but my thoughts were so muddy,
My eyes went ablur, I just couldn’t study.
“Some pizza might help,”I said with a shiver,
But each place I called refused to deliver.

I’d nearly concluded that life was too cruel,
With futures depending on grades had in school.
When all of a sudden, our door opened wide,
And Patron Saint Put It Off ambled inside.

Her spirit was careless, her manner was mellow,
With her eyes open wide she started to bellow:
“What kind of student would make such a fuss,
To toss back at teachers what they tossed at us?”

“On Cliff Notes! On Crib Notes! on Last Year’s Exams!
On Wingit and Slingit, and Last Minute Crams!”
Her message delivered, she vanished from sight,
But we heard her laughing outside in the night.

“Your teachers have pegged you, so just do your best.
Happy Finals to All, and to All, a good test.”