When daddy would make ice cream on a hot Saturday night
he would pack in crushed ice and rocksalt just right
he would turn and churn and churn
vanilla dreams in our minds burned
with every pull of the handle up and down
our eyes were open wide as we all sat around
whoever was the quietest got to lick the paddle
unless he went to mama and started to-tattle
who could sit quietly while anticipation grew
There was never a drop left when we were through
Mama put Ice Cream dreams in our heads
Helped us to fall fast sleep in our beds
Making homemade Ice cream on a Saturday night
None of us could wait to get that first bite
