Yuck! Gross! I won't eat that
This food looks like a run over rat
It's green and gross, kind of icky,
It smells like a sewer and is really sticky
Nasty meat cooked half-way through
I think my face is turning blue
I think this bread is twelve years old.
The fries aren't cooked, they're still cold!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.