Skip to content

Tongue Sandwich

Written in Brooklyn, New York, in 1975

Movin’ and groovin’ at the deli,
Not exactly sure what I want;
Standin’ at the counter, starin’ through the glass,
Corned beef is nice, but it ain’t got no class.

Chewin’ on a Kosher dill pickle,
Still not sure what I want;
When I spot it over there, lyin’ on a plate,
My stomach’s empty, but I sure feel great.


Gimme a tongue sandwich
Plenty of mustard, plenty of meat;
On rye bread
Take one bite, it can’t be beat.

Walkin’ down the street feelin’ great,
But something is not quite right;
I run back to the deli, say, “Hit me once more,”
I throw back my head and let out this roar.


I get back to my apartment
My baby says he’ll make me a snack;
As he comes from the kitchen, I can smell what is comin’,
My baby knows what keeps my motor runnin’.


Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *