Mother’s
kitchen © 2016 Tony Fallon0115
When I was
growing up in Ireland my mother said to me
If you don’t eat what I cook for you, you’ll be hungry
Her menu was made up of cabbage spuds and bacon
And if you thought you were getting beef you were mistaken
Over in America our cousins were eating corned Beef
But they were foreign words to our commander-in –chief
Every Friday she’d grab a knife and go looking for a duck.
If a chicken should cross her path he’d be out of luck.
One or the other would be Sunday’s dinner and soup
Which would bring smiles all around to our little group.
Everybody at the table felt the same if I am not mistaken.
That seven days a week was far too much to be eating bacon.
If you don’t eat what I cook for you, you’ll be hungry
Her menu was made up of cabbage spuds and bacon
And if you thought you were getting beef you were mistaken
Over in America our cousins were eating corned Beef
But they were foreign words to our commander-in –chief
Every Friday she’d grab a knife and go looking for a duck.
If a chicken should cross her path he’d be out of luck.
One or the other would be Sunday’s dinner and soup
Which would bring smiles all around to our little group.
Everybody at the table felt the same if I am not mistaken.
That seven days a week was far too much to be eating bacon.
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