Like lightening from heaven itself
Red was struck. The people of Britain knew nothing of True Barbecue.
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.