A bushel of olives dances the tarantellaIn a grassy field warm with summer sunAll the extra virgin spice of a pizzicato tickleAnd a cantata of fresh fruttaFor the chef to leap heart-first into song
A bushel of olives dances the tarantellaIn a grassy field warm with summer sunAll the extra virgin spice of a pizzicato tickleAnd a cantata of fresh fruttaFor the chef to leap heart-first into song