Well, I don't care to eat out in smart restaurants. 
I'd rather do a Vindaloo: take away is what I want. 
I was down at the old Bengal, having telephoned a treat 
When I saw her framed in the kitchen door. 
She looked good enough to eat. 
(And I mean eat.) 
She was a tall thin girl. 
She looked like a tall thin girl. 
She said, 
Whose is this carry-out?
My face turned chilli red. 
Well, I don't know about carrying out, 
But you can carry me off to bed. 
(And I mean bed.) 
She was a tall thin girl. 
She moved like a tall thin girl. 
Maybe I can fetch for it, 
And maybe I can stretch for it. 
I may not be a fat man and I'm not exactly small 
But when it all comes down, couldn't stand my ground. 
This girl was tall. 
(And I mean tall.) 
Big boy Doane, he's a drummer. Don't play no tambourine 
But he's Madras hot on the bongo trot, 
If you know just what I mean. 
Stands six foot three in his underwear; 
Going to get him down here and see 
If this good lady's got a little sister 'bout the same size as me. 
She was a tall thin girl. 
She looked like a tall thin girl. 
Well, can I fetch for it? 
Well, maybe I can stretch for it? 
Well, am I up for it? Or do I have to go down for it?