To hell with you, ignoble paunch, abhorrent in my sight! I gaze at your rotundity, and savage is my frown. I'll rub you and I'll scrub you and I'll drub you day and night, But by the gods of symmetry I swear I'll get you down. Your smooth and smug convexity, by heck! I will subdue, And when you tucker in again with joy will I refulge; No longer of my toes will you obstruct my downward view . . . With might and main I'll fight to gain the Battle of the Bulge.