My job of the past 8 years is coming to an end. A bunch of us will be out of jobs towards the end of October due to lack of funds within the county. I'm going to just hang out for awhile and probably re-m-m-marry the old guy. The kids are having a fit ! They think their dad is nuts for doing it again with me !!

This piece was inspired by my old co-worker who was from down South and used to walk into the kitchen and ask me what kind of roadkill we were having every time he worked. He was darn good with the kids at the center, too.
I'm hearing this with the most safithhhticated instruments-- ukulele, kazoo, jug (for bass rhythm) ,and spoons. Maybe a bajo, too. Sort of 20's ragtime. Enjoy. I was walking around there humming this once I started it at work the other day. heehee


"About the Kitchen Closing Day at the Treatment Center"

(Chorus)
There' ll be no more roadkill in this kitchen
No more in this place
No more funny smells
That smell like they came straight from hell
No more roadkill anymore

(1st verse)
I'm the lunch lady that you heard about.
Anything can go in my meatloaf.
Have no doubt.
You might find a possum ear--
Or a left ven-tri-cal from a deer.
No telling what you'll find
When you search through a recipe of mine.

(2nd verse)
I wouldn't have it any other way.
I've got a neat recipe for leftover souflle.
I disguise it so well that you cannot tell-
It's got a little bleu cheese
To make it seem the right color.
But not a recipe you'd want to make for your (high, slow note) mo-o-ther.


(Chorus, no singing, on kazoo with spoons, jug, and uke)

(Chorus )
There' ll be no more roadkill in this kitchen
No more in this place
No more funny smells
That smell like they came straight from hell
No more roadkill anymore

That rabbit running 'cross the street
Will surely end up as a treat
For lunch or dinner today
I swirved my tires in a special way
To bring some healthy protein just for you
(spoken) Look at that nice broth
In that mock beef stew.

(Chorus)
There' ll be no more roadkill in this kitchen
No more in this place
No more funny smells
That smell like they came straight from hell
No more roadkill anymore

( Sadly for the break)
But now the feds are closing the kitchen down
This lunch lady won't be around
To serve children the best of the best
She might stay at home, that's my guess,
And wait for another day to serve in her special way
The tidbits scraped with care (Speed up to happy)
From in her wheels and fender flares

(Chorus)
There' ll be no more roadkill in this kitchen
No more in this place
No more funny smells
That smell like they came straight from hell
No more roadkill anymore

BJH

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