~ To the tune of “My Favorite Things”
Dry angel cakes that taste nearly not quite right
Canned macaroons looking good in the right light
Breads which don’t rise and about which we sing
These are a few of our unleavened things
Moon-shaped and jellied, those candies turn real hard
The taste of the cereal, like the boxes we discard
Matzah ball soup, to our stomach it clings
These are a few of our unleavened things.
When the night comes and I eat tons, and I’m feeling fat
I simply remember they’re Pesadik things
And my tummy feels… more flat!
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