Lazy spuds slouching on the couch,
Daily nursing a protuberant pouch,
Dressed in pajamas loose and free,
Cheeto crumbs their badges of glee,
Rising hourly to fetch more snacks,
And an ice-cold bottle of schnapps.
With TV remotes as scepters of might,
Skimming channels morning to night,
Viewing TV shows, and movies bizarre,
Journeying to lands, both near and far,
Their only quest was to binge and lie,
Potato chip mountains piling up on high.
In their castle of cushions, they'd recline,
Snacking on nachos and sipping on wine,
Remote controls, like magical wands,
Flipping channels with careless commands,
Rarely rising from the cushions, to stretch,
Shake off the laziness, and failing to flex.
But beware the danger, oh couch spuds all,
For too much lounging could lead to a fall,
For life's grand adventure, beyond the screen,
And beyond the confines of your couch, so keen,
Their limbs may stiffen, and their spines ache,
From being a couch potato, make no mistake!
