Feast or Famine

My next-door neighbors bother me,
something I must confess.
They fill my heart with anxiousness,
anxiety and stress.

These folks are real big carnivores.
They like their juicy meat.
Just throw it on the backyard grill
and then turn up the heat.

It looks like they are cooking beef
or maybe leg of lamb.
It isn’t chicken, that I’m sure,
and I don’t think it’s ham.

Hell, I don’t know just what it is.
It could be mule or horse.
I wouldn’t eat that for the world,
not even with a sauce.

With lots of ketchup on the side
I’d eat most any meal,
but I must draw the line somewhere.
That’s just the way I feel.

Hey, I’m like any other guy
who likes to have a feast.
But sometimes I will pick and choose;
I won’t eat any beast.

I think they may be cannibals.
Now don’t you laugh at me.
I’ve seen them grilling sides of meat
the size of half a tree.

I’m starting to get nervous now.
They’re eyeing me a lot.
As if they’re taking measurements
to fit me in their pot.

So I am on a diet now,
I’m trying to lose weight.
And I am doing pretty good.
I’ve lost ten pounds to date.

I figure if I slim down fast
they won’t want me to eat.
Instead they’ll look for someone else
who carries much more meat.

And I will be so skinny soon
they’ll pass me up…. although
… that means that when the famine comes
I’ll be the first to go.

Uh-oh… change of plans.