Classic Poem

Long years ago in Denmark I
Was sick and sad and peaked and pined,
At length I know the reason why
I suffered this distress of mind.
I cried, " To be or not to be? " —
Because my daily meals were three!

Methought I saw my father's ghost
Stalking the battlements by night,
Even the sentry at his post
Declared he saw the self-same sight.
The reason will be clear to you —
Our meals were three instead of two.

Poor Uncle Claudius! I believed
That you my honoured sire had slain,
But now I know I was deceived,
And wish you were alive again,
This thirst for vengeance that one feels
Arises from too many meals.

Ophelia perished in despair
When my digestion would not mend;
My dietetic errors were
The cause of poor Polonius' end.
I ran that harmless dotard through
Because my meals were more than two!

How happy, therefore, they who fix
Their minds on hygienic laws!
Two meals a day — at twelve and six —
Of every virtue are the cause.
This regimen, begun in time,
Will save you from a life of crime!