Sweat may be pour’n, feet may be ache’n,
Brows may be furrowed from hay bale pitch’n,
But, though work is call’n and labors are pull’n,
‘Tis never too much for a dance in the kitchen.
Folks may demand, consumers command,
Time may be tick’n and deadlines a-crunch’n,
Though shoes may keep run’n at everyone’s summon,
Just kick them right off for a dance in the kitchen.
Rain may be pound’n, and thunder resound’n,
The cloudiest day might keep everyone itch’n,
The storm sounds may holler, make ya run for the celler,
But at the end of the day there’s a dance in the kitchen.
Be under the weather, feel worse than ever,
Baby is cry’n, the kiddos are munch’n,
The beans have burned and the cat hasn’t learned—