The legend lives on from the bakery on down
of the big bake they call "Rich and Gooey."
The bake, it is said, never fails those it's fed.
It is loved 'cause it's so moist and chewy.

With a load of big dough, twenty-six tons of it go
in the oven so it won't be empty.
That big oven true will bake stuff to be chewed
making people gain weight 'til they're lumpy.

The shop was the pride of the Upper West Side
on the Avenue named for Columbus.
That's 9th Avenue, just case some of you
want to go to there and kick up a rumpus.

Concluding some deals that will spoil some meals
and make mothers back home very angry.
But kids of each age will eliminate that rage
when they show their moms why they were hungry.

A review in the Times made a tattletale sound
when the critic tried Edmund's Napoleons.
And also creampuffs and some other good stuff
and he's laying down lots of simoleons.

The babka we tried and we got apple-pied
and the cake that was chocolate nine layers.
The praises I sang of Fitz Lemon Meringue
and the cute girls who act as displayers.

When suppertime came and Mom served me that dreck
I asked, "Mother, why this stuff you feed me?"
At seven PM, that food tasted so grim.
Went to Edmund's place feeling so greedy!

The order wired in for some devil's-food sin.
My cholesterol level's in peril.
When doctor asks, "Mate, why you gain so much weight?"
It's the confections of Edmund Fitzgerald!

Does anyone know a gym where I should go?
To work this food off could take twelve hours.
Dieticians all say, "Don't pack so much away."
But Ed's snacks have got me in his power!

We might have split pants and we gained one more size
and we might have all gotten much fatter.
And all that remains is the stakings of pains
that Fitzgerald puts into his batter!

Bake cinnamon rolls, their praises I sing
in the walls of my crumby apartment.
The pecan pie steams, forming young men's dreams.
Their eyes get so big, poor deportment.

And farther beyond, pastries of which I'm fond.
So's my girlfriend, so those things I'll send her.
Their praises she'll sing far out in Wyoming.
Not just Elves have that magic, remember!

In a musty old hall in New Jersey I pray
I will make it to baking's cathedral.
The register cries for the 29 pies
that I bought there at Edmund Fitzgerald's!

The legend lives on from the bakery on down
of the big bake they call "Rich and Gooey."
The bake, it is said, never fails those it's fed.
It is loved 'cause it's so moist and chewy.