Sam You Made the Pants Too Long

You made the coat and vest
Should fit me the best.
You sewed the buttons strong.
But Sam, you made the pants too long.

Far from the Bronx I flew,
Around the world to you,
'Cause they said you're the best custom tailor in Hong Kong.
Sam, you made the pants 'bout a foot and a half too long.

First I took a jet,
Then I took a clipper,
Then I took a ricksha to your door.
And now Sam, I regret,
My chin's caught in my zipper,
And my cuffs are down there polishing the floor.

Oh, what a thrill divine,
When I first saw your sign.
It said, "For service, kindly bong the gong."
I bonged, and then mine pants went wrong.

I don't like to complain,
Or cause a demonstration,
But the belt is in my armpits, if you please.
I'm trying to explain,
My pants need alteration.
How do you say "oy vay" in Chinese?

I've been here six long weeks.
My pagoda leaks.
I thought your name was Feldman, but it's Fong!
Sam Fong, you made the pants too long!