Hip. Hip. Hurray. It's Friday night
With not much to do that is in my sight
The week-end has arrived
which means another work week that I've survived
I open the frig wondering just what will be supper
I hope a lot more than bread and butter
A head of lettuce, a green bell pepper and one Italian tomato
An onion, a stalk of celery and a few potatoes
Home made chili but only a cup
A pan on the stove, a little oil and soon I shall sup.
Cat's head is next to the drawer of meat
A long sniff, a set of claws pushing at my feet
And right after the tongue rasps across her jowls
She lets out an ear-screeching yowl
But that won't get her a feast.
The meals ready so it's time to dine
I'll pour a glass of good white wine
Grab a fork, a slice of bread slathered in butter
Bow my head and say Grace
Lift my fork to feed my face
Cause it time for supper.
Yaw'll come on back and see what I be a-doin...Ch'ear.
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