A feast for the ears, on the subject of feasting too much.
lyrics
I have a Bengal tiger
His name is Roary Jack
He's fur and teeth and muscle
Made of orange, striped with black
His smile is wide and pointy
His coat is thick and coarse
And he can kill the tallest man
Without the least remorse
I feel a little safer
When he's inside his cage
Where he can't tear a man to strips
In just one fit of rage
But life is not a fair thing
In his cage, he cannot stay
For I will die if I don't walk this tiger thrice a day
Although when he's out on the leash
There'll be all hell to pay
But I will die if I don't walk this tiger thrice a day
I have a wooden cabinet
A box of buried treasure
It's full of every spirit made
In every single measure
It's made of sweetest poison
Laced with everything to thrill
A drop or two can titillate
A little more can kill
I feel a little safer
When all is locked inside
Where it can't stab my heart
Or bayonet my wounded pride
But life is not a fair thing
In their case, they cannot stay
For I will die if I don't drink a bottle thrice a day
Although each time the stopper's off
There'll be all hell to pay
I'll surely die if I don't drink a bottle thrice a day
But what is there to do
If there's but death if you deprive?
When your sin is taking too much
Of what keeps your soul alive
Alive
For life is not a fair thing
In this skin, I cannot stay
For I will die if I don't feed this demon thrice a day
And though when tooth and morsel meet
There'll be all hell to pay
I'll surely die if I don't feed this demon thrice a day
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