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.)

She was a tall thin girl.

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?

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