Miami has a pickle smell,
A smell that tells you all is well,
You enter in a restaurant,
And eat and eat all that you want.
And there is herring too, you know,
So white that it resembles snow,
'Light Bagels' with some cream and lox,
That even would please Mr. Fox.
Miami how I love your name,
I come and go, you are the same,
Maybe a new hotel or two,
But that won't change my love for you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.