Puff, the magic sandwich,
lived in the fridge.
Made of cloves and garlic bread,
he's food for you and me.

Little Johnny Hunger loved that creamy Puff;
and gave him gifts of cutlery and other dining stuff.

Puff, the magic sandwich,
lived in the fridge.
Made of cloves and garlic bread,
he's food for you and me.

Puff, the magic sandwich,
lived in the fridge.
Made of cloves and garlic bread,
he's food for you and me.

Together they would travel with a picnic basket,
and mock the other sandwiches that stayed at the market.

Well-fed kings and princes would drool where'er they passed,
and all the rest would greet Puff with their napkins in their laps.

Puff, the magic sandwich,
lived in the fridge.
Made of cloves and garlic bread,
he's food for you and me.

Puff, the magic sandwich,
lived in the fridge.
Made of cloves and garlic bread,
he's food for you and me.

Recipes live forever, but no so types of mold.
An emptiness in the stomach leaves room for something cold.

One late night, it happend, little Johnny just gave in.
And Puff, that once great sandwich, was lost to consumption.

At first, the the thought was bitter, but the taste was oh, so sweet.
Johnny Hunger wondered why he waited so long to eat.

With the sharp teeth of his freind, Puff could not long last,
and Puff, the magic sandwich, sadly passed to the stomach.

Puff, the magic sandwich,
lived in the fridge.
Made of cloves and garlic bread,
he's food for you and me.

Puff, the magic sandwich,
lived in the fridge.
Made of cloves and garlic bread,
he's food for you and me.