Tary not dear Gwendolyn

O’er ice cream, cake or pie

Your stomach never proves to be

Much smaller than your eye

Tary not dear Gwendolyn

When heaping full your platter

A garden salad? Or french fries?

(You know you’ll choose the latter!)

Tary not dear Gwendolyn

With pralines in the pantry

Sweets like these although they please

 Make waists turn vigilante

Tary not dear Gwendolyn

On scents of roast beef gravy

Such nourishment will only serve

To make your waddle wavy

Until next time . . . I love you