My Grannie Loved to Cook,
My Mother Loved to Cry
On Sunday's we'd watch my Grannie Bake
And my Father Drink Whisky and Rye
I'd ask my Grannie what she was makin'
And she tell me Cat Fur For Kitten Britches
I'd ask my Mother why she was cryin'
And she'd say because the sinks so full of dishes.
She'd sob all night, Mainly in the tub
I'd say Momma, we love you, please don't cry
And she'd say, "You better be sweet to your Momma or I will run away,
eat old dead worms and die"