An ode to Brussels sprout

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Oh putrid, green sphere of evil you put my stomach into upheaval emitting foul stench from the pot smells of what the cat done brought I'd much rather feast on moldy socks Or lick the backside of an ox This is no mere food. Oh no sir, Bob It is the secret home of an alien blob seeking to suck away my soul As it enters into gaping pie hole save me please before it's late from this strange, green orb upon my plate What manner of punishment could this be How dare you feed this thing to me I guess you hate me, I guess you do To give me this thing with taste of a shoe But don't you worry oh don't you fret Because I am gonna get you yet You better watch out, you'll soon see When you're least expecting me I'll take this pale, green Brussels sprout And shove that sucker up your snout