Don't Eat Welsh Rarebit!

I know what you want to order for dinner, Welsh Rarebit.
But if you order it again, I swear that I'll have a fit.
You sleep in the buff and the Welsh Rarebit makes you walk in your sleep.
As you walk through the neighborhood butt naked, the men always peep.
When you last ate Welsh Rarebit, you got your gun in your sleep and blew off two of my toes.
I cried like a baby as I called 911 because the Emergency Room was where I had to go.
I have a short fuse and if I blow my top in public, you won't like it.
But that's exactly what is going to happen if you order Welsh Rarebit!

(This is a fictional poem)