Sugar Sugar
I’m your large chai latte
Don’t you think I’m sweet?
If you are not a fatte
You will be one tout suite
Your clothes may well be natte
But soon, if you indulge
Even your pilattes
Won’t take away your bulge
Your life will be in tatte
You may as well scoff chips
Your friends will all be catte
And poke you in the hips
Where feet went pitte patte
They’ll thunder and they’ll thump
Because you were so pratte
And drank from Costa’s sump
Jacques as in Hatte
Liked coffee – not this sweet
Your brain will be like patte
You’ll wear a winding sheet
Do not be coffee-scatte
Beware that siren voice
Absinthe killed E. Satte
It was a safer choice
Isadora, in a Bugatte
Arrived at sudden death
And sugar makes you batte
May also cost you breath
Next time you chitte chatte
Stay off the caffeine pail
So you can be Jack Spratte
And live to tell the tale
Click here for a link to the magazine Light, where Bill is the featured poet
