When Mama was frying chicken
She spent most of the morning in the kitchen
The smell would drift out the open window
As we were playing outside the window below
It filled the air we could hardly wait
For the opportunity to fill our plate
Mama never had to ask us twice
She only asks us to be nice
Use our manners at the table
Help the little brothers not able
Daddy would sit at the head
He was the first to get fed
Two long benches on each side
Filled with kids all wide-eyed
We loved the food mama cooked
She never needed a recipe book
Just A simple country meal
One that warms my heart still
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