Finger Lickin

The skillet’s on the old wood stove 
And mamma’s frying chicken 
The aroma is driving us crazy 
As we know it’s finger licking 

Sister’s setting the table 
Daddy’s reading the news 
Johnny’s washing his hands  
And I’m tying my shoes 

The winter storm is outside 
Trying it best to enter in 
But the cabin’s built really solid 
By daddy and some of our kin 

The water’s in the bucket 
I drawed it from the well 
And hurried back inside real fast 
Because of that chicken smell 

Southern fried and crispy 
It don’t get better than this 
And if you’re late for supper 
Finger lickings what you’ll miss 

Just a simple family 
Living a simple life 
With all six of us children
Just a daddy and his wife 

All those years behind us now 
But those memories linger on 
As someone will still recall them 
When we all arte gone 

The skillet’s on the old wood stove 
And mamma’s frying chicken 
The aroma is driving us crazy 
As we know it’s finger licking
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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Karry Avatar
March 10, 2014 at 9:34 AM
Thanks Jan, and yes that chicken was finger lickin good back in those old days. Many thanks for your nice comment.
Allison Avatar
March 8, 2014 at 12:40 PM
Oh I can smell that chicken even from hear - this conjours up lovely times of families being together - something that is often lacking in society today. thoroughly enjoyed this poem Jan xx
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