I’m not beating now around the bush, my friend;
I am speaking my mind, must no longer pretend,
So hear me now—some Wop talk I’ve learned;
With it I vow to almost utter “Va fungool!”
Kind of things not learned in school.
If you cook, then you will get my meaning.

Mangia mi, yeah! So you know that’s in
Eye-tie, and with it I’ve dissed you.
Mangia mi, yeah. You know I’m crowin’
Eye-tie. I know I’ve not blissed you.
Will you be broken-hearted?
“Blue” the words I’ve imparted.
“Fie! Fie!” would my teacher say. . .“no-no!”
Mangia mi, yeah! Now you really know.

“Why, why?! It’s becoming logoro.”

I've been angry and sad about the things that you do,
So I looked for a line to extol my worldview.
I didn’t go low as puttana—whore;
Vai in culo would be outré, a bit too strong,
And so, this phrase came along.
If you cook, you will know what I’m saying. Soooooooo,

Mangia mi, yeah! So you know that’s in
Eye-tie, and with it I’ve dissed you.
Mangia mi, yeah. You know I’m crowin’
Eye-tie. I know I’d be pissed, too.
Will you be broken-hearted?
“Blue” the words I’ve imparted
“Fie! Fie!” would my teacher say. . .“no-no!”
Mangia mi, yeah! Evil what I say?
Nice, nice it is not, nor clever.
Mangia mi, yeah, is lame, sans cachet.

“Why, why d’ya kvetch in French, sir?!”

Mangia mi, yeah! Here I go again—
Eye-tie, and with it I’ve dissed you.
Mangia mi, yeah. Gonna crow again
Eye-tie. I know I’d be pissed, too.
With this broken parlata,
“Blue,” from the ritirata.
“Fie! Fie!” would my teacher say. . .“no-no!”
Mangia mi, yeah! Now it really shows:
Eye-tie—there’s very little I know.