I love your number six combo-meal,
And the confusing way it makes me feel.
A mix of ardor and duress,
It gives me heartburn in my chest.
But when I’m hungry late at night,
I always head to your sweet orange light.
Now Houston’s grown into a fine restaurant town,
With new spots and chefs even NYT has found.
It launched incessant foodie prattle,
(They only expected Tex-Mex and cattle.)
But to those who think all we do is brisket,
I have this to say: Honey Butter Chicken Biscuit.
And if I want something I can dip in picante,
Whataburger doubles as a restaurante.
Although an HBCB is my usual fix,
I’ve been known to sample a taquito or six.
They're delicious, compact and easy to hold,
For driving-while-eating, worth their weight in gold.
I know your locations like the back of my hand
I’ve sampled them all, across this flat land.
At Shepherd and 59, I threw it in reverse
Crushed the car behind me, a drive-thru curse.
Now we taxi with a car-load of friends.
With our cab driver, we always dine-in.
To keep me from you would take some higher power,
Now let's discuss making breakfast 24-hour.
Watch another stirring tribute below:
