Soup De Ville

Soup Song

It was late spring, 1964, I was fresh in Chive town, the city on the leek. I was stalkin' this little cherry tomato in the Garden district, near the Pepperfield museum. Word had it that she was involved in a rhubarb at Yams, a trendy little cafe on the corner of Vine and Market. Suddenly, there she was, I almost plowed right into her. Har-vest was partially open and revealed the nicest pair of pumpkins I'd seen in a long time! She was radishing! A real Helen of Soy!

CHORUS:

Your really in the soup now.

Trouble's gonna swoop down.

Oooh-oooh-oooh-oooh. Soup now...

I was standing there thinking how I'd like to take her back to my bin and gar-lick her all night long, when this big husky dude jumped me from behind and started arti-choking me. Let me tell you, I'm not one for the ruffage stuff, so I pleaded, " Peas mister, don't beet me!" After a short tassle he said, "Alright sprout, but don't let me catch you around here again or I'm gonna squash ya!" I went home and tried to relax. I put in a video tape of Germinator II and was soon dormant for the night.

CHORUS:

The next day I caught a taxi cabbage to the ballpark to see the Grubs play. There I met up with Gus Aspara, an old buddy who helps me on tough cases. Gus was a Kernal in the Gazpatcho during the war. "I won't lie to ya Stew, your in for big truffle on this case" I took the advice and sat down to watch the game. Pretty uneventful until the ninth when the pitcher threw a bean ball to load the basils with two outs. The next guy hit a can of corn to the center fielder but he dropped it. I think he had a hole in his clove. I split when it looked like it was going to extra onions.

CHORUS:

I got back to my patch and who was waiting there for me? None other than Ginger, the fem-fennel from the previous day. "Where's your Jolly Green Giant bodygourd?" I par-snipped. "Don't worry about him, he's just a hybrid". she said. "Come over here and let me purree in your ear." She rubbed her leg on my rhutabaga and I nearly fertilized my genes, if ya know what I mean! I didn't know what to think. Her ring finger was full of carrots. Was she just a hoe? What if the big guy was to turnip? I mean, I really wanted to toss this babes salad. I decided to play it safe and told her to meet me at Yams later. I was smellin' kinda' ripe so I took a cold rinse.

CHORUS:

Time to earn my celery. I figured I'd get there early and root around some. Might produce some clues. The Spinach Sisters and Soufle' were playing the hit tune'Brocolli Bites' to a packed shed and there wasn't mushroom to sit down. I planted myself at the barn and ordered a V-8 shooter. She was late, and I was gettin pretty steamed, you know, a little hot under the collard. I went to the back room and it was so parsley lit that I could barely seed. I was about ready to leaf when tall, green, and ugly comes in and says, "Hey ya little weed, I'm gonna crop your ears!" Dread was growing in me (I almost soiled myself), when suddenly, Gus came up behind the guy and grabbed him. Well, I made an endive and snatched a pool cucumber and we combined to give him the old si-low treatment. He hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

CHORUS:

Well, I called the cobs, and they rounded up the whole bushel of them. They're going to be rotting in stir-fry for at least 30-40 at 325. Me? Well I'm relaxing at my private legume in southern Cauliflornia with Cinnamon, the girl who was the oregano player at the ballpark. It seems that she had always admired me from a farm. To conclude my Almanac, the moral of the story is; You can lead a horticulture but you can't make her think! Lettuce pray!

CHORUS: Fade Out

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