Quarantinin' in the Kitchen
Come people of this world unto me pay attention
Don’t gather more than 10 ‘tis the devil's own invention
Maternal Nature slays when there is no discretion
So be a decent soul by quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
When COVID-19 came, most did not heed its meanness
We figured it would pass, and our lives would go on seamless
But here we are instead with jaws and butts a-clenchin’
Adaptin’ to the weirdness quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
No one has asked for this, we’d rather all be drinkin’
Our shoulders choc-a-bloc with a minimum of thinkin’
But future happy times depend upon compassion
Which furthermore depends on quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
You may not like your ma, you may not like your dada
You may not like your kids, but it really doesn’t matter
It’s bigger than your stress, it’s bigger than the tension
The Golden Rule requires quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Though some in dark blue suits and red hats made in China
Will gladly sacrifice you to get another dime-a
We B O’Ds, meanwhile, will keep your throat from itchin’
By drinkin’ Guinness pints and quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Lyrics © 2020 John Brocato
NOTE: I wrote these lyrics in the wake of the COVID pandemic that began in March 2020. The tune is the old Irish song "Courtin' in the Kitchen."
Don’t gather more than 10 ‘tis the devil's own invention
Maternal Nature slays when there is no discretion
So be a decent soul by quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
When COVID-19 came, most did not heed its meanness
We figured it would pass, and our lives would go on seamless
But here we are instead with jaws and butts a-clenchin’
Adaptin’ to the weirdness quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
No one has asked for this, we’d rather all be drinkin’
Our shoulders choc-a-bloc with a minimum of thinkin’
But future happy times depend upon compassion
Which furthermore depends on quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
You may not like your ma, you may not like your dada
You may not like your kids, but it really doesn’t matter
It’s bigger than your stress, it’s bigger than the tension
The Golden Rule requires quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Though some in dark blue suits and red hats made in China
Will gladly sacrifice you to get another dime-a
We B O’Ds, meanwhile, will keep your throat from itchin’
By drinkin’ Guinness pints and quarantinin’ in the kitchen
With me too-rah-loo-rah-la-me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Too-rah-loo-rah-la-too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
Lyrics © 2020 John Brocato
NOTE: I wrote these lyrics in the wake of the COVID pandemic that began in March 2020. The tune is the old Irish song "Courtin' in the Kitchen."