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
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