There's nothing quite like them under the sun.
Everywhere I go,
I'm searching high and low.
Never can find them, though.

From Madras to Mumbai,
One million rupees just can't buy
That which can compare
to keep me quite as regular.

I just found pasty dough;
Irregularity follows close.
Nothing quite compares,
I cannot buy them anywhere.

One million rupees isn't enough,
The main ingredient must be love.

Multiple grains and fiberous chunks
Make regular and healthy dumps.
Fresh from the oven, and baked not fried,
Even if I'm full, I can't deny

Oma's tasty buns... [repeat]