What’s the matter?
Feeling down, a bit ill?
Sporting a frown? Got germs to kill?
The appropriate adjective for every part,
Such as a painful brain or a fleeting heart?
Inflamed sinuses, nervous stomach?
Wheezing lungs, heavy chest?
Itchy mouth, sore throat?
Runny nose, puffy eyes,
And that rash that just won’t go away?
Well, bolster your will and hold the pill; no need for medicine today.
All that’s required’s that soup you desire of dreamy, lovely taste.
Tomato soup, don’t call me a liar, just drink that creamy frothy paste.
I’m not being fictitious, it’s really delicious, and trust me it isn’t a waste.
You laugh at me now but it’s truly nutritious, just wait for the look on your face!
Tomato soup, I can see your change of opinion as you think:
Oh my— He was right!
The vegetable elixir as it touches my throat is a cure. The thick, heavy, warm bolus sinks to my stomach, and like an atomic bomb in a world of sad men it’s payload is delivered and it whitens the sky as if a whole city were simply being erased by an omnipotent being and, for a moment the world is blank. Pure lucidity, under the effervescent bliss of a white sky, all ailments are washed clean. Upon swallowing the soup I regained my will and knew that once again the sun would rise and that finally I could live on. He was right. He was right. He was RIGHT! He- You, sir, you have given me my livelihood, my health, my own body, how could I repay you? How could I ever relinquish this debt? Anything you ask you shall receive, name your price.”
I knew you would cherish my delicious dish,
And as repayment I have only one wish.
There is only one price for a soup so fine,
And that price, my friend, is one ninety-nine.