Fat...so?

The pantagruélique fellow
Woke up in a sweat,
Woke up from the nightmare
In which he was anorexic.
This had to be fixed.
Considering that he was a monk
And for the well-being of his soul
The craziness he had to find a way to debunk,
Find the cause of these woes
And get the problem fixed
Otherwise he'd soon be gone
To hell in a wine barrel.
Perhaps a confession would help
Find the origin of these nightly disturbances.
The Devil was after him, that was certain.
Thus after a copious breakfast he went to see the Abbot.
A pilgrimage was the suggestion, like it or not.
So he set out with a fully packed mule.
After a while, seeing that she worked much too hard
And feeling a slight bit hungry after barely an hour on this trek
He stopped and releaved her of a good chunk
By eating excellent portions of beef and lamb,
Guzzled down with a few cups of good Rosé.
One day the mule would move no more
And neither could he.
The sweltering heat got to him
The pressure on his heart increased
It finally gave way
And he died in a sea of grease.