Doner, Flesh of God’s high Helm
and Daughter of the Black Sea Shore,
Lamb of God, thy fatten’d Realm
is widen’d after Beer doth pour.
When my Sense in Puddles lieth,
thou stormst through me, Mind and Bone.
Mine ungainly Hunger flieth
to thee on thy spinning Throne.
Thy Rumblings echo through the City –
how it singeth, with such Might!
All is babbling, none are witty
when thy Din doth ring the Night.
Kebab, thy meaty Juices taste
of Asia Minor, Heaven too!
Thou thunderst till mine Heart is rais’d
and stuffst my Stomach well and true!
