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Wooden Spoon lyrics - add music?

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After my regular Wednesday gig a few weeks ago, a guy asked me if I wrote my own music. I said I did write some songs, and he asked me if I could write music for lyrics he had written. I said, maybe, but it won't be until winter when things slow down. So he gave me these lyrics in an envelope. I finally took a look at them, and realized I don't have the time to spend on them, even in winter.


If anyone has a hankering, have at it. Post an MP3 and I'll send him the link.



Here's the lyrics:

Wooden Spoon

In a kitchen warm, there’s a middle drawer – and in that drawer – there’s a magic wand!

Of little note to the casual eye, but quite well know to cake and pie

‘tis an old wooden spoon this song’s about – a tool we’ve rarely done without

With a handle long and a handle strong, with the end worn flat and the color black -

Gets mighty hot in that old tin pot.

There are newer spoons in that middle drawer - with a prettier grain they do remain.

Rarely used and oft refused, they lack the charm of that darker wand.

Break some eggs and sift some flour - a cake will bake within an hour.

Now that old spoon from a twisted tree – a twisted limb without a knot, gets really, really hot in that old tin pot.

A newer spoon will get used maybe, but that older spoon still stirs the gravy.

Soon they shall gather and divide – the contents of the middle drawer.

The newer spoons I s’pect they’ll save – for to stir in a microwave.

But what becomes of the twisted one, that old spoon with the ebony tip?

That wrinkled hand will cease to stir – no need to cook, no need to bake.

Just gotta get a store-bought cake.

Break some eggs and fry some bacon – that smell will tell just what we’re makin’.

When the angels sing above the sky, perchance a tune about this spoon

When the angels sing above the sky – only a few will know just why.

The master’s hand directs this blend, with twisted wand and ebony end.

When the night is bright – and when held just right – one can hold the moon in that wooden spoon.

With a handle strong and a handle long. With the color black and the end worn flat – gets boiling hot in that favorite pot.

When it’s time to choose which tool to use – on that old friend I will depend. A newer spoon will get used maybe, but that old spoon still stirs the gravy.

With a handle long and a handle strong – with the color black and the end worn flat

I’ll miss that spoon when I look back, that’ll nevermore stir the gravy.

One day we shall turn to dust - but that old old spoon will never rust.

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