Robbie Fulks - Scrapple lyrics

rate me

he mom and pop diners 'round Allentown

Don't really have much that a fella can hold down

And the folks up 'round Philly and Bethlehem

Ain't gormet types, really, or chefly men

Now, they're God-fearin' folks in that keystone state

But their food ain't fit for a collection plate.

There's things for all kinds of people to hate

But there's one that everybody loves

Chorus:

And they call it Scrapple! Scrapple!

Corned and steamed, and hogmeat dappled

Set by the window till it's cold and hard

Sliced up thick and fried in lard

Hey what's that swimmin' in the big red pan

That's kickin' up all this mania

It's scrapple, scrapple, the pride of Pennsylvania

Well, way down yonder by the Ford Corsair

Billy's got his hands in Betty Sue's hair

Shakin' and a-steamin' up the roadmaster

We can see him but we can't see her

Well Mama's in the kitchen and she might see

"Billy better let your sister be!"

But he jumps from the Buick to the dining room

When he gets a whiff of that pig perfume

Well they call it scrapple! Scrapple!

Hearty as a t-bone, slippery as a tadpole

Any old part of the hog will do

Neck, and the nipples, and the toenails too

Hey what's that swimmin' in the big red pan

That's kickin' up all this mania

It's scrapple! Scrapple!

The pride of Pennsylvania

Well up in the pen, 'neath the big shade tree

The laziest hog you ever did see

Stiff in the joints, and slow in the head

That fat boy'd be better off dead

So grab your hammer and away we'll fly

To splatter his brains all around the sty

Then we'll be living in a world of dreams

Chuggin' down scrapple till we bust our jeans

It's scrapple! Scrapple!

Didn't bring a plate then fork you a hatful

Workin' in the field till the sun goes down

Grandma's whipped up twenty-five pounds

Hey what's that swimmin' in the big red pan

That's kickin' up all this mania?

It's scrapple! Scrapple!

The pride of Pennsylvania

It's scrapple! Scrapple!

The pride of Pennsylvania