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Anyone is welcome to perform these songs in public without royalties; however, if any of them are recorded or published for profit, the writers/composers expect the usual royalties.

SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

This CHALLENGE! was posted by popular demand (it would seem) and/or by thread creep from another thread. (For info, check out this thread).  The CHALLENGE! was to write a song about food -- your favorite food, your least favorite food, the things in your refrigerator, etc. Any food-based topic was fine.

How The Salty Dog Got That Way by Hardiman the Fiddler's "Best Wife" (a/k/a Praise)
(No pertickler tune. Somebody pick one that fits so I can do chords.)

Ever since he was a puppy
He has made the evening meal.
First his parents then his children,
Even parishioners. (They squeal.)
Just because he is a good man,
And always tries to do what's right,
You used to find him in the kitchen
Nearly every single night.

But when we two got married, 
Even though he's the better cook,
I sat him down by my side one night,
And I said, "Now honey, look.
We have got to split our gender roles
Back to where they oughta be!
We are no longer single parents.
How 'bout if I cook and clean?

"And I'll be your daughter's mama,
You be your new step-son's pa.
While you visit the dead at the hospital,
I'll chauffeur to the mall."
(We'd both been real good parents,
Despite what our kids may say.
We just got tired of doing it all
In that single-parent way.)

He gradually learned to trust me
Not to dent his pots and pans.
I found I liked doing the laundry
And taking off the pants.
He started wearing mink to bed,
(Don't knock it, it's a thrill.)
I found that many things "I won't!"
Somehow became, "I will!"

But still the kids were cryin'
For some good old daddy food.
So every once in a great long while,
Why not? Gourmet is good.
Till came the night they told me
What (as campers) they had done:
They'd bring home leftover unopened Spam
And they didn't put it on a bun.

No, cooking lessons die too hard
Even when the cupboard is bare.
And when you're too damn tired to go to the store,
Spam, stir-fried, is pretty fair.
If you apply the lessons life has brought,
You know just what to do.
You make Thai stir fry (add peanut sauce),
Without a second thought.

After all, everything is eaten 
In those places I can't spell.
And if Filipinos cruise for stray dogs
As our good friend Dio tells,
Why not use your best cooking skills
To make a Treet beyond compare?
A multitude of sins are covered
Which would otherwise lay bare.

Well now you know how our house is,
And I hope you understand.
We only stir-fry Spam occasionally,
But when we do, it's grand.
Now his latest enthusiasm
(Culinarially I mean),
Is Rogan Josh and Vindaloo
With beef. And always lean.

So if you get an invite
To drop in at Lake Champlain,
Around the spring of 20-ought-one,
You better not complain.
For if you leave the cooking
To Hardiman and Praise,
We promise there'll be more than Spam
Sitting at your place.

Cuz when we're really camping,
It's a normal sort of thing
To fire a dutch oven (or two) of duck,
Or any meat you bring.
Don't worry, dears, Spam's back home
Awaiting our return.
We'd never give such great stuff to YOU!
Besides, you'd get heartburn.


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