Hoagie-Nose
Those are not the scent of roses in the breeze.
It is more like the smell of aged provolone cheese.
It wavers along with some olive oil and oregano.
Those are some scents I already know.
Who is lurking nearby do I suppose?
It is none other than my dear Hoagie-nose!
She is a woman I can’t possibly forget.
Everywhere she follows me this Italian coquette.
This ragazza has a kiss as sweet as anisette.
This little woman always accommodates a man.
That’s why she drives around in a mini van.
She makes sure the fellow is nice and comfy
in the back of her Chrysler Town and Country.
There was a valuable lesson I would learn.
The flames of passion gave me a third-degree burn.
We crossed the Rubicon to the point of no return.
My Hoagie-nose and I will tie the knot in June.
We will be joining forces around the rise of the full moon.
Yes, this little Italian doll is the one I must choose.
Her daddy made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
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