In the beginning

Red surveyed the mortals from the heavens

These poor souls were ignorant

Of prime cuts smoked low and slow

So glorious that angels wept tears of joy

They knew nothing of glazes and rubs

Infusing flavour and worthy of worship

The people must be


From the plague of sad sausage and rodent sized ribs.

They must be led to places of joy

To cleanse their souls with smoked offerings


But even the almighty couldn't act alone

So red recruited disciples to spread the gospel

The annual sacred pilgrimage

From the Carolinas in the north


Texas in the south

Would ensure his flock feast as richly as the believers across the sea

People of Britain fear no more, rejoice

Let there be meat. Let there be flavour.Let there be Red's

Let there be meat

Let there be meat. Let there be flavour. Let there be ribs. Let there be Red’s. People of Britain, fear no more.