Sonnet written to a doner kebab

Oh choicest cut of fresh-roast new-born lamb
Plucked from gambolling in the springtime field,
Thy juices sweet as honey that fed Adam
In Eden. Firm, and yet thy flesh doth yield.
Thy pitta, sweet as manna that did fall
On Israelites in desert exodus,
Like lover's lips that parted in a thrall
Of passion, glistening with flecks of lust:
Shows em'rald lettuce; crimson tomato sliced,
Carressed by chilli and garlic mayonnaise
Rustic cabbage, pickled peppers diced,
Thy aroma like a prayer our Lord to praise.
Thou art a ransom more than kings may earn.
So why then maketh thou my bottom burn?