Have you ever heard a Rutabaga
Scream? Or tortured a Turnip till it
Bleeds? My father doesn't understand why
I do not care for meat. But, oh, to see
A Carrot stretched upon the rack. Sheer Joy!
How I relish the very thought of a
Broccoli being ripped and torn apart.
I walk into a garden, looking for
My next victim. The Cabbage tries in
Vain to bury its head. the Spinach runs
For cover. And the Cucumbers--wait till
They see what I have in store for them. Though
Satan cares more for burning flesh, I think
My virgin vegetable sacrifice is best.