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Oh, How That Woman Could Cook

I once knew a woman who couldn't spell cat.
Her face was as homely as chintz.

That wasn't necessary, that part you did.

Hamlisch: Could I...could I try it again?

Let's keep it on a high basis.

Hamlisch: Could I try it again? Could I get another
crack at it?

OK.

Hamlisch: Thank you.

I once knew a woman who couldn't spell cat.
Her face was as homely as chintz.
In winter she always wore last summers hat,
And her size eleven shoe was a pinch.
When she played piano, strong men would faint,
Und veek men would cry out in grief.
Und as for her singing, well, it made you feel,
That it wasn't so tough to be 'deef'.
But with all these things that the people would say,
Her voice and her looks couldn't drive them away,
'Cause, ach, how that woman could cook.
Her bread was like angel food's cake.
She could take soup meat, and give it one look,
And right away it was porterhouse steak.
Her pfannkuchen, what a beautiful dream,
Her tripe was like peaches in cream,
And with the table between us,
She looked exactly like Venus,
Oh, God, how that woman could cook.

Toronto Song

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