I used to hole up all alone,
Wait for my pen pals to write
To me from far-flung places like Gabon.
Letters would come, and I'd get some steaming done,
But my mind's been changed.
To spend my days this way is no more fun.

So I'm gonna leave this philatelical boredom.
Made me snore, lookin' for stamps with national flags.
Philatelic ennui prompts me to be a new man.
Now I'm pleased to find I have a new plan.

Oh, Philadelphia cuisine, kine and cheese, that's my food,
It's not light, but in Philly that is how we dine.
It's not light, it's not light,
It's not light, but it's a tasty bite.
Philadelphia cuisine--I love it, yes I do!

For loot to use, I took usury-like loan--
Pawned all my stamps so pretty,
Opened a restaurant in a really bad zone.
Now I'm feeding families I call supersized,
And they foot the bill now by handin' me
Food stamps, and I cry:

"Irony, irony,
Irony, 'cause how they buy from me--
Philatelical cuisine! I hate it, yes I do!"