Crackle and hiss , boil and spit , mutton, ok lamb , hits a hot black pan.

Seasoned hunterway bark , flavoured apparition next to the lea and perrins.

Fried egg , and dripping , tales of great uncle bob, a breakfast of champs.

Drain that wasted bog , spuds hit the deck , mashed into a bloody wreck.

A feast from the hills , don’t mention the supermarket till , we bubble and squeak.

We bubble and squeak.