Tristan the Butcher Boy

You'll smack your lips, at his silver side Our beefy lad will cure your ham His tender loins, are worth your coins And if you ask, he'll stuff your lamb I tell no fibs, you'll love his ribs It ain't no joke, his crackly pork Worth every pound, his piece of round No crumbly biscuit, beats his brisket Like chocolate drops, his porky chops You cannot beat our Tristans meat His chunky thighs, don't criticise His seasoned beef, won't crack your teef (teeth) I tell no fibs, you'll love his ribs It ain't no joke, his crackly pork Worth every pound, his piece of round No crumbly biscuit, beats his brisket A butcher always, in the making But the creme de le creme, of his meaty treats His able hands, will cure your bacon He's the nicest guy, you could ever meet