An Ode to Panach

Oh lord shine the brightest light onto my beloved,
His skills unmatched, his size mclovin’d,
Around the village he struts and goes,
Peering his eyes unto underage hoes.

His name is familiar, I'm sure you’ve all heard,
MMP, flying high as a bird.
Flying high only in spirit, for his feathers don’t flock,
Spaghetti and meatballs smeared all over his **ck.

We cherish his presence, we treat him like a prince,
Though he’s a fat little muppet with his knickers in a twist.
He prances and twirls with all the kappa sigma girls,
And fondles the balls of his brothers through the halls.

We love you Matt P, you’re a one of a kind,
Bloat up your belly and make no use of your mind.
We look forward to speeches, sermons and rambles,
This is an ode to Meatball Matt in shambles.