Sacred Charney
Let us be preparing the food
That will devour our insides
Tell the world that it was true
That we were powerful bigheads

In one town, there were three men
All of them wearing a fragrance
And of this world, they could not talk
For all the scene is but a sacred charm

It wears a thong, it wears a sock
In the town over from Langley

Some may say there is a song
A warbling cold, a savory shape
When all the heirs have prickled and gone
A lady is over the mountain
She says, "what are you laying your hands upon?"
She sings, "What are your savory shoulders ready for catching a savior!"
And lo! Behold! A shaven one woman comes cradling old bags
Old sagging fresh bags of human flesh