13 Oh How That Woman Could Cook

Once more woman who couldn't spell cat her face was as only a cinch That was necessary Let's keep it on a high basis Can I get another crack at it? Okay, thank you I once an old woman who couldn't spell cat her face was as only a cinch In winter she always wore last summer's hat, and the size of the oven shoe was a pinch.

When she played piano, strong men would faint, one week men would cry out in grief. When asked for her singing, well, it made you feel that it wasn't so tough to be deep. But with all these things that the people would say, her voice and her looks, couldn't drive her way, cause all that woman could cook, her bread was like

angel full-skake. She could take soup meat, one give it one look, and right away it was for the house take. Her funacle her, for the beautiful dream, her tribe, was like peaches and cream and with the table with Venus she looked exactly like Venus.

Obviously with the Lucetania, laying at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, I'd have got killed if I sang that song in Canada. I put some makeup on him and I made myself a Jew comedian, which I'd never been. I'd never been a Jew comedian. And I sang this song.