Food of the Night-Mare

Food of the Night-Mare
TTTO: Hymn to the Night-Mare (Fish)

        Am          C            Am  G  Am
When we eat of your flesh, it is not by choice
         C  Em Am            C    D  E
You make no protest, for you have no voice
        Am   G  Am          G    C    E
But the gods of plenty have left this land
    C      Am        G   D  E
And hunger grips our little band
        Am      C            G       E
And the food forsworn, it is nigh at hand,
    Am         G Em Am
The consuite P B &  J.

Would we eat you again in the long bleak hours
When the lunch meat's gone and the trays all scoured?
When the morning's pastries are hard as rock
And there won't be soup till six o'clock,
Is there any food at which we'd balk,
O consuite PB&J?

We will eat you again as the Dead Dog runs,
When there's no hamburger but lots of buns,
When the soda's warm and the casserole's cold,
And the potato salad is growing old...
We will take of the bread that's escaped the mold
For a consuite PB&J.