Lyrics |
Well, I don't care to eat out in smart restaurants. I'd rather do a Vindaloo: take away is what I want. I was down at the old Bengal, having telephoned a treat when I saw her framed in the kitchen door.
She looked good enough to eat.( And I mean eat.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She looked like a tall thin girl.
She said, `` Whose is this carry-out?''
My face turned chilli red.
Well, I don't know about carrying out, but you can carry me off to bed.( And I mean bed.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She moved like a tall thin girl.
Maybe I can fetch for it, and maybe I can stretch for it.
I may not be a fat man and I'm not exactly small but when it all comes down, couldn't stand my ground.
This girl was tall.( And I mean tall.)
Big boy Doane, he's a drummer. Don't play no tambourine but he's Madras hot on the bongo trot, if you know just what I mean.
Stands six foot three in his underwear; going to get him down here and see if this good lady's got a little sister `bout the same size as me.
She was a tall thin girl.
She looked like a tall thin girl.
Well, can I fetch for it?
Well, maybe I can stretch for it?
Well, am I up for it? Or do I have to go down for it?
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