I ate at the Texas-size Roadkillhouse Restaurant
And I’m sure mighty sorry I did;
I’d heard it was great and the food is the bestaurant—
Well, of things they would rather be rid.
The Cut of the Day was the busboy’s big toe
On a knife that had dropped from the sink;
And the Catch of the Day was caught three weeks ago,
And was finally beginning to stink.
The venison steaks had mistakenly strode
Into headlights on Route I-390;
And I learned that the chicken did NOT cross the road,
But was splattered half-way on its heinie.
As I gagged on the un-appetizers I’d ordered
I could hear death-throe screams unabated
As half-alive entrées were hanged, drawn, and quartered—
And the menu-boards quickly updated.
They make dog-and-cat sausage with coon chuck and capers
(How they do that, you don’t want to know);
I’ll write ravin’ reviews of it in all the papers—
As long’s I don’t have to eat crow.
But next time I go to that Roadkillhouse place,
Where the menu is less than intriguin’,
I’ll cut to the car-lovin’-animal chase…
And I think I’ll just order me vegan.
—Donot Eat Mouse