Nine years, three months, and eight days,
before I was born, something happened that would change the way
my life turned out.
Let me tell you about
exactly what I mean:
The scene, New York, state, Buffalo, to be exact,
1047 Main Street, between Best and North at
this bar called the Anchor,
owned by Theresa and Frank Bel-
lissimo and their son,
Dominic, who was working on that one
fateful night,
when his friends came in for a late bite.
But that late in the kitchen,
oo-oo-ooh slim were the pickings,
all that was left were some chicken
wings, wings, scrumptious wings, chicken wings…
Chicken wings,
one of my favourite things,
deep fried and then tossed
in a bowl of hot sauce,
with some butter plus vinegar and a little dash of cayenne,
taste so delicious they clearly weren’t meant for flying,
o-oh chicken wings.
Well Theresa retreated
back to the kitchen to see what
she could do with the depleted and reduced stock,
because soup stock
or trash the two op-
tions for wings back in the day,
but she said, “Mmm, hey, hey, hey,
what’s stopping me
from dropping these
in some hot grease,
then tossing the pieces
in hot sauce,
and then serving the lot
with blue cheese dip and stalks
of celery? Nothing that’s what.”
So she did it and guess what?
All around, baby thumbs up,
so the recipe it stuck,
and spread around
the world so profoundly
effecting my life,
especially the nights
when wings sell for half price,
drinking beers watching hockey fights.
Chilling with my friends, just kicking back,
stress slips away eating chicken fat.
Suicide on the menu then I’m picking that,
full meal or finger-licking snack.
Regardless baby wings tasting great,
so let’s take this time to commemorate
October 30th 1964 the date
wings first appeared so raise one up let’s celebrate…
[Repeat chorus 2X. And repeat final “o-oh chicken wings” 4X to finish.]