My friend Little E is trying to lose weight.
He loves his grub so I really do pity him.
He’s currently seventeen stone three.
When sixteen seven he’ll be known as Slim.

He’s cutting out sausages in an effort to be healthy.
Stodgy puddings have gone, he’s eating fruit instead.
He’s ceased endless openings of the fridge door.
He’s also quite worried about emulsifiers in bread.

A new wardrobe is not long away,
Tailored to his slimline shape.
When he reaches his challenging goal,
We’ll shower him with ticker tape.

Good luck to the lad I say.
He loves his eggs and bacon.
I only hope he sticks to his guns,
And doesn’t become forsaken.