I love you, but I love you less than I love this fetuccini.
Even so, I must confess, I love you more than most linguini
Your thin pale arms, your smooth white legs, remind me of the
sweetest noodle;
With the merest thought of you, I cannot help but think of
food-le
Among the pastas you are ranked; there can be no higher honor.
Why do you say what I said stank? Can't it wait 'til after
dinner?