My Mother's Brisket

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 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