JAN 30, singable satire: "STEM CELLS; DON'T LET YOUR DAUGHTER_CELLS ... "

PARODY-LYRICS

ORIGINAL SONG: "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys", 1975,  (covered by) Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson

PARODY COMPOSED: Giorgio Coniglio, August 2013. 

STEM-CELLS, DON’T LET YOUR DAUGHTER-CELLS GROW UP AS MEATLOAF
(to the tune of "Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys") 

 

Intro:
Cowboys have shortened lifespans, and unhealthy lifestyles -

They won’t heed diet or pills, yet give you their smiles.

Smoking in pool-rooms and tinned sloppy-Joes and a breakfast of chicken-fried steak

They won’t understand cloning, why the dogies have gone - 

 Steers and cowboys may both fade away.

Cow-cells in vitro don’t moo, but they ain’t hard to clone.

Myocytes [1] can be lined up, much like neurons or bone.  

Conveyor-belt ‘Dolly’s, on packing-house trolleys might frighten consumers like you.  

PETA surely will grouse if calves have to die young

To make BSE-free [2] beef Ragú.

Stem-cells, don’t let your daughter-cells grow up as meatloaf;

Don’t let ‘em be Big Macs or mulligan stew,

Make them be sirloins or prime ribs ‘au jus’.

Stem-cells, don’t let your bovine genes morph into burgers;

They’d sure land up bunned, and likely be shunned by

Lovers of côtelettes-de-veau.

Foodies like trendy new bistros and fresh local produce

But this Steak Tartare from the lab shouldn’t get 'em uptight.

Abattoir workers feel threatened,

But coliform runoff and tainted meat lessened,

'Gene cuisine' - it’s all protein; for the future a blessing

To feed 8 billion souls every night.

Stem-cells, don’t let your offspring get smothered in goulash;

Don’t let ‘em be Big Macs or mulligan stew,

They’d feel more ‘mignon’ as prime ribs ‘au jus’.

Stem-cells, don’t let your progeny flower into burgers;

They’d sure land up bunned, and likely be shunned by

Lovers of châteaubriand.

[1] myocyte = (isolated) muscle cell

[2] BSE = bovine spongiform encephalopathy, “mad-cow” disease