Odes to Last Calls of Atlanta — Vol 2: Drinks & Tables · Track 3 · middle
Pittypat's Porch: The Gone-With-The-Wind Buffet
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Lyrics
[Intro] Oh, Pittypat's Porch, 1967 to 2012, Rocking chairs creaking on International Blvd, Anthony DeNunzio's dream, velvet drapes and mint juleps. [Verse 1] I remember you, old rocker, Wood worn smooth by a thousand waits, Outside 25 International Blvd NW, Where tourists gathered, laughing, Fried chicken scent drifting out, Collard greens and sweet potato soufflé steaming. You held us before the buffet called, Pittypat Hamilton's fictional porch made real, Rocking back and forth like the stories told inside. [Chorus] Swing with me, chair of '67, Creak out the tales of Scarlett's aunt, Fluttering and agitated, plump and kind, In that renovated 1890s building, Where mint juleps chilled in frosted silver cups, And portraits watched us eat our fill. Rock me back to those buffet lines, Brunswick stew and cornbread warm. [Verse 2] You saw the conventions come and go, Tony DeNunzio welcoming all, From opening night in '67, To the last clink in October 2012. Rocking chairs, you were the welcome, Leisurely Southern sway, Before the velvet and the jazz kicked in, Dixieland filling the air like biscuit steam. [Bridge] If you don't eat at Pittypat's, you haven't been to Atlanta, Tony said, and you, chair, agreed with every creak. Small plump woman immortalized, In wood and wicker, waiting still. [Verse 3] Moved to 87 International Blvd NW, Bigger space, same old charm, Rockers on the porch, inviting rest, Before the all-you-can-eat spread, Fried chicken crackling, greens simmered slow. You rocked through decades, witnessing laughs, Final service quiet, glasses empty. [Chorus] Swing with me, chair of '67, Creak out the tales of Scarlett's aunt, Fluttering and agitated, plump and kind, In that renovated 1890s building, Where mint juleps chilled in frosted silver cups, And portraits watched us eat our fill. Rock me back to those buffet lines, Brunswick stew and cornbread warm. [Outro] Oh, rocking chair, you're gone but not forgotten, Pittypat's Porch lives in your sway.