I had Toulouse my little sausage

From the Parma of my hand

My Mortadella’s got a new fella

Plays bass in a rock and roll band

 

She prefers his chipolata

He’s got Bellotta charms

And he’s carried off my baby

In his hairy, ham-like arms

 

Though his prosciutto’s strictly crudo

And he lacks any social grace

She’s Salsiccia of me

So she’s moved in to his place

 

I need her back so badly

Heart and Bresaola! Hear my voice

It’s a case of him or salami

And she’s my Chorizo of choice

 

I’ll always carry a Torchon for her

But fuet, I’m paying the price

I’m Sobrasada and lonely

Now I’m no longer her premium slice

 

She’s made her Boudin and she’ll lie in it

Andouillette, she was my first 

His pancetta is no better

 

Lost love is the wurst.