Cast Iron Stomach
Words and Music: © 2009 by Tom Smith
Another kids' song, of the ewww-that's-gross genre. If your tummy doesn't churn at least once, well, I ain't doin' my job.
Habanero hummus with Scotch Bonnets on the side,
Anchovies and roadkill dipped in broken glass and fried,
Donuts soaked in pickle juice with old banana peel,
Year-old cake with Gummi Worms and some worms that are real,
Dusty rusty carpet tacks with carpet still attached,
Eggs that aren't cooked, and two or three that nearly hatched,
Sludge from off the tires when my Mom drove into town,
Gimme lots of ketchup, 'cause the whole thing's going down!
I've got a cast iron stomach, I can eat anything,
A cast iron stomach, I'm the eating-stuff king,
Chicago deep dish pizza or a Buffalo wing,
Your Grandma's favorite custard or an old tire swing,
I've got a cast iron stomach, stuff you wouldn't believe,
And there's nothing you can give me that'll make me heave,
What can't I achieve, my cast iron stomach and me.
It started with a dare to drink some milk two days too old,
I kicked it back and liked it even though it wasn't cold,
And then I had a caterpillar on a paper plate,
And washed it down with Gatorade, hot glue, and Quaker State,
No matter what they handed me, it went down like a shot,
A part off someone's Buick, or a hanky wet with snot,
I smile and devour and gain not one calorie,
Steve Don't Eat It! and Benchilada ain't got nothin' on me.
And my cast iron stomach has the scientists mad,
They don't know how I can do it -- hey, too bad, so sad,
I nibble on plutonium, it's totally rad,
My hero's Tenzil Kim (that's Matter Eater Lad),
I'll be rich and famous with my digestive feats,
To heck with Harry Potter -- meet The Boy Who Eats,
It's gonna be sweet, my cast iron stomach and me.
Until I woke one morning and my stomach made a noise,
Like zombies and Godzilla singing with the Backstreet Boys.
I spent an hour bringing up what all went down the hatch,
Don't go in there without a gas mask till I light a match.
As quickly as it came, my super stomach went away,
And stupid normal boring food is all I eat all day,
And now the problem is I've got to get it through my skull:
I can't eat something crazy just 'cause normal food is dull.
My noncast iron stomach, I'm a regular kid,
Like Darth Vader with the Jedi, betrayed me, it did,
Now no more bugs or moldy rocks or undercooked squid,
No more eating everything, my quo pro is quid,
I miss my superpower, but I guess it's all right,
If it means I won't be stuck in the potty all night,
Pickled pork lips? Mm -- one bite, my cast iron stomach and me.