Cutting shortening to make a pie,
Whipping up biscuits in the blink of an eye,
Cold shocking tomatoes to peel and to jar,
Draining off grease and stirring in chard.
Baking and basting and stewing a roast,
Cracking eggs to scramble and adding some toast.
I cannot make fruit crepes’ or cheese soufflé,
But give me a skillet and step away.
The skill that was passed on to me,
Has served me well and soon you shall see,
A meal of biscuits, fried chicken and grits,
Will grace your plate in two shakes of a stick.
Cut up the chicken,
Knead the dough,
Flour on the floor, with a long way to go,
Chopping and dicing turn down the boil,
A simmer will do now leave it a while.
It isn’t fancy, it isn’t hard,
The kitchen is hot,
We eat in the yard.