It will pound your food around;It will number while you slumber;
All its uses will astound!
It will pound your food around;
Don’t you need something this Christmas
You can give to Cousin Bing,
That will keep him much too busy
To come visit in the spring?
Or a gift for your Aunt Frieda
That will take her breath away
So her visit will be pleasant
‘Cause she can’t think what to say?
Well, you need Mike Mott’s Miracle:
It’s the perfect gift this year.
You’ll thank Old Mike Mott for it,
And he’ll let you buy the beer.
Yes, it dances and it prances,
It shimmies and it shakes.
It reasons through all seasons.
It eliminates the fakes.
It can bone, arrange a loan,
Block your hat or clean your flat.
It can ticket, clear a thicket.
It can do much more than that.
So, salute Mike Mott’s invention
As the wonder of the age.
And it comes in these great colors,
Avocado, peach or beige.
But just do not ask the secret
Of its purpose ‘neath the sun.
(For the secret of its purpose is
There really isn’t one!)
But it slices and it dices
And detects the slyest lies.
It curdles and it hurdles
And it makes those curly fries!