My Mother's Brisket - Rick Moranis

The smell first hits me from five blocks away

It’s Friday and I can’t stay away

The Blue Jays are playing but I won’t likely risk it

I’m here with a plan to binge on her brisket…

My mother’s brisket

So moist and tender

Always sends me

On another Shabbos bender

The onions and carrots look nice

I don’t need them and potatoes, no dice

There are only two things that suffice

My mother and her brisket

My mother’s brisket

So silky smooth

Whatever might happen all week

There’s nothing quite like it to soothe

Don’t need a forshpeis or any desserts

I got no room, my stomach already hurts

On Monday I’m altering shirts

Thanks to her brisket

I want to climb, climb,

Into her brisket

I could cry, die

At the thought of her brisket

I want to swim in her gravy and thrillingly flailing, I’ll whisk it

The judges will give all the gold

To my mother’s brisket

My mother’s brisket

Strictly glatt

The butchers revere her

Reserving the very, extraordinary, best cut

Her picture’s on the wall in between Schneerson and Yentl

Her brisket can make even flossing seem transcendental

I’m alive, diving

Into her brisket

I swoon, spoon

Her soft sweet brisket

And if I really get lucky tonight

Though it’s easy 'cause she loves to spoil

Shabbos candles will reflect their last light

In blessed tin foil

I want to climb, climb

Into the tin foil

I can’t wait to get home

With my tin foil

I’m gonna run all the red lights

Pull it over, stop it and frisk it

I want twenty-five years to life

With my mother’s brisket

Solitarily confined to every slice

Of my mother’s brisket