Saturday, February 12, 2011

Ode to a Prata Man

Ode to a Prata Man, parody of Teardrops on My Guitar by Taylor Swift

I need to eat
I park my car in one way street
I step out into the heat
And use my phone to send a Tweet

I take a look around
There's people everywhere
And I can't find a seat
Without tissue choping the chair

The place is small
And there's a queue at every stall
I squeeze and I crawl
To the shop at the far wall

I find an Indian man
(I think he looks Tamil)
I wonder who he is
Until he gets behind the grill

'Cos he's the reason for the curry on my prata
The only thing that stops me going out to buy zhi char
I don't know who you are; But I'll buy it
'Cos you've got no queue

I'm still hungry
Looking down in my kopi
So many stalls, that I can see
But I don't feel like eating hokkien mee

I see him standing there
Softly kneading dough
I smell that wonderful smell
And all at once I know

He's the reason for the curry on my prata
I'll never need to go eat char kway teow or buy popiah
Don't want dhal, or achar; I keep saying
There's no one like you

I bring the da bao home
Try not to drop the stack
I think I'll wash my hands
And maybe have a midnight snack

'Cuz he's the reason for the curry on my prata
The only one who can play Taylor Swift on his sitar
Curry stains on my car; I keep eating
While I'm driving, too

Tried 'tissue', and 'paper', but it's never enough
And the 'egg' is not quite as good, it's true

I need to eat
Maybe next time I'll add some meat


Accepted a challenge from a friend.

Hi Miss Swift, if you're somehow reading this, I have to say I'm a great fan of your work. Don't sue me, please.

You Belong With Me,
The Edna Man

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