Everybody knows that the best kind of parties
|
Wind up round a kitchen with an old wood stove
|
someone starts humming
|
and we all start singing
|
to the squeezebox fiddle
|
and the old banjo.
|
The potluck cover charge
|
is a poor boy
|
or a keg full of hurricane
|
while we laissez les bon temps roulez
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
We¡¯re gunna wear out the floor
|
in the kitchen and the hallway
|
to the rhythm of the washing machine
|
Two spoons, six strings and a Cajun song is all we need
|
for a good ole¡¯ Creole soiree in the kitchen
|
|
Grandma¡¯s got gumbo boiling on the burning
|
while the horse hair¡¯s flying from her fiddlin¡¯ bow
|
All the little kiddies are sucking on Huck a Bucks
|
just one more then it¡¯s fais do-do
|
We¡¯ll bend the beams in the ceiling of the basement
|
to the rhythm of the tambourine
|
while we laissez les bon temps roulez
|
|
The living room ain¡¯t where the living is
|
The living room ain¡¯t got no soul
|
The party is always in the kitchen
|
Cause the kitchen is the heart of the home
|
|
We¡¯re gunna wear out the floor
|
in the kitchen and the hallway
|
to the rhythm of the washing machine
|
For a good ole Country Party,
|
for a good ole¡¯ Creole soiree in the kitchen
|
|
-----------------
|
Soiree In The Kitchen
|
| Diane Chase |
