Lyrics

Do not feed doughnuts to your obese children You will regret it when they're in their teens Maccas might shut them up now that they're seven But they won't forgive you when they're getting picked last for P.E Don't you see? Boombalata, motherfucker Have you noticed that your kids are fat? What're you going to do about that? What're you going to do? So you're telling me that your family Has a history of obesity? You got a polycystic ovary? You say, "It's just the way that God made me"? It's unlikely, statistically To be a physical thing But either way, it don't explain why you Are in the queue at Burger King You can blame it on biology You can blame your physiology You can point to genealogy Or your social anthropology You can say you are an ectomorph That you just can't get the kilos off Well you can be what you wanna be But stop feeding your boy KFC He weighs forty kilos and he's only three He looks like a clean-shaven Pavarotti Ordering Diet Coke is not the way back Boombalata, kiddie-stuffer Your kids are fat, have you noticed that? And you ought to be ashamed For you only have yourself to blame Your five-year-old princess in her size fourteen tutu Only eats pizza like that because you do She'll be dead of a heart attack before your grandchildren are ten Perhaps you'll consider a cut-back on extra fries then Boombalata, kiddie-stuffer Your kids are fat, have you noticed that? What're you gonna do about that? What're you gonna do? So you're telling me that your family Has a history of obesity You got the polycystic ovary Your mum had childhood diabetes But (and in your case There's a reasonably big butt) Do you think it's an appropriate treat The all-you-can-eat at Pizza Hut? There's no excuse, you silly goose For a child with a caboose Like a moose who's eaten too much mousse It's tantamount to child abuse Kick them off the fucking couch Unplug the PlayStation Send them down to the park If they don't wanna go, make 'em Tell them they have to jog Until their jogging shorts fit 'em If they hesitate, ask firmly If they still resist, hit 'em Is this what you want for your little girl and guy? These chips off the pork chop, for the toffee apples of your eye? Six-packs of Kit Kats are not the way back Boombalata, kiddie-stuffer Your kids are fat, did you notice that? And you ought to be ashamed For you only have yourself to blame Your six-year-old miniature Jabba the Hut Eating half melted Mars Bars from the folds of his gut Will be dead of an aneurysm before his own children -ism ten Perhaps you'll consider a cut-back on Taco Bell then Perhaps you'll consider a cut-back on Krispy Kreme doughnuts And popcorn in bucket-sized boxes And microwave pizza or drive-through McDonalds For weeknightly dinners in front of the TV And notes to the Phys. Ed. instructor saying "Timmy has asthma," but he really just gets short of breath Cause he's thirty-five kilos above the ideal weight Of thirty-five kilos for a nine year old boy