Fries

Intro: G D am em C D C
    G                                D
At last the waiter brings the beaujolais
     C
She reaches for the wineglass
        G             D
 as he softly slips away
  G                        D
Another novelle menu to peruse
     C 
For Cajun blackened rhubarb
        G                 D
 and pecan-stuffed Aztec goose.
     G
Sure is a fancy restaurant,
      D
 the table linens fine;  
      am              C
The chandeliers glow gently, and

 the crystal goblets shine.
        G                                 D
They'd pass for master chefs with no surprise,
   am       em    C       D           G
Except that every entree comes with fries.

  am  em C D C
Fries; 
           G                         D
squid flambe, cilantro bisque, and fries.
am em C  D      em
Fries, French fries;
     G
Too many spuds upon her plate,
      A                            C 
It's pointless to debate or compromise;
    D                    G       D am em C D C
It must be served with fries.

Where is the Maitre D' with towel in hand
To hover at her elbow
 with his face composed and bland?
Evening chores and rush-hour traffic loom;
But the heavy-piled desert tray
 shouts across the dining room.
So this is dinner's finish, like Julia Child's eclair:
The tender berries trapped inside
 a pastry past compare.
She glances at the chocolate mousse and sighs;
Oh why cannot the bakery offer pies?
Pies; more key lime, merange, and apple pies.
Pies, mince pies;
So many sweets upon the tray
So many piquant tastes and sugar highs;
They must be selling pies.

As she digests the heavy meal she ate,
The waiter sets the check now
 gently face down by her plate.
She reaches for her purse of virgin wool
And puts it on her VISA,
 for her MasterCard is full.
Sure was a fancy dinner, but Friday will be grim;
She'll put on her old sweats again
 and head off to the gym
And puff through half an hour of exercise,
And laugh at people working on their thighs.

Thighs; all they want is to have slender thighs.
Thighs, buff thighs;
Too many pounds below the waist,
Too many for dark fabrics to disguise;
They must reduce their thighs.

Serves them right, for eating all her pies.
Guys in ties
Come flocking to the weight machine
To push on hunks of metal twice their size;
They must have brawny thighs.