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