Cafeteria Crimes

In school each day as noon draws near,
Three hundred kids are gripped with fear.
It’s then we’re forced to join the line
That leads to where the students dine.
We wonder what the meal will be,
What culinary crime we’ll see.
And then we sit in shock and gaze
At what they’ve heaped upon our trays.

The stuff they give us every day
Is like a monster’s noon buffet.
It’s salads made of weeds and straw
And rolls so hard they break your jaw.
It’s soup that’s greasy, cold, and blue;
And rice that tastes like super glue.
It’s fish from sewers far below;
It’s mustard cake and breaded crow.

It’s burgers made from billy goats
That butt as they go down out throats.
Spaghetti tough as dental floss
With motor oil instead of sauce.
It’s custard burnt and made from mud
And fruit beneath a gravy flood.
It’s soggy pie with rubber crust
And ice cream made with chalkboard dust.

These daily lunches make us cry.
We’d like to wave the cooks goodbye.
We think these meals are inhumane,
But no one cares when we complain.
We feel so crummy down below.
Why should our tummies suffer so?
We hope police will soon intrude
And make them serve us better food.