Food of You

(Al Jolson enters stage right.  Violins set a tone of subdued yearning)

Is that sauce
On your thigh?
Are your cupfuls really that high?
Oh, I'd like to make food
Of you,

We are here,
Just to  spoon
On a summer sheet, under the moon
And I'd like to make food
Of you!

I don't know if it needs  pepper
Or if a little oil would do!
With a small
Dose of heat
Comes the fragrance of simmering meat
And we both come completely
Unglued!

And I'd like to make food
Of you!