No laughing matter
When Roseanne decides it’s time to get fatter
Her tranquil lily pads
Turn into sabotaged Papa New Guinean lads

I will turn off the lights
And try to avoid her dust mites
As she quickly indulges in Peruvian treats
Every homo sepien she meets, she greets, and then eats

She is the bitch from the east
She will give in to eating yeast
Her pen pal in Guam
Is her anteaters’ mom

Though I look past her evil
All I see is flab in my retrieval
I mean, what’s up with her laugh?
It sounds like Mr. Tom Arnold giving her a sponge bath

Is she loved at all, or just a massive round ball?
I’ll let you make the call
This gargantuan relic owes us no favors
Senorita Roseanne comes in 34 flavors