Sweet Lassi

Babe, will you clarify something for me?
Will you make me a little of your ghee?
Don't ask why. Will you clarify my butter
Or do you think I'm just a nutter?
Don't answer that.

That cold okra runs up and down my spine
But any other veg will do just fine.
You know what to put in the cooking pot.
You know I like it when it's "fucking" hot.

Oh sweet lassi, lychee-scented and so classy,
Like a subcontinental Shirley Bassey,
Coming on with poppadoms and eyes so glassy,
I can't wait to get my hands on your chassis.

You got me channelling Uncle Fattie,
Chewing on a hunk of chapatti.
Got red fire down below Tandoori-style.
Stop and let me play my sitar for a while.

Oh sweet lassi, bold, buxom and brassy,
Simmer me gently with sauce so sassy,
Although your pakoras make me gassy
And your forehand's like Ilie Năstase
You're the only Punjabi chef for me.
So paneer and yet so far...

B.R. 21/07/2013

 

Oh Jiggy Jiggy, she break my heart...