My kitchen tis of thee,
Sweet land of misery,
Of thee I sing.
Place where the biscuits died,
That once were mama's pride!
From every country side,
Let freedom ring!

My kitchen tis of thee,
That took my liberty,
Of thee I sing.
I hate thy heat and steam!
I hate to mop and clean!
I think I'm gonna scream!
Let freedom ring!









Fling aprons to the breeze;
Throw dishtowels in the trees;
Let women sing!
Let frozen food awake;
Let all that eat partake;
Let it their dinner make,
My life prolong.

Our kitchen tis of thee,
Which took our liberty,
At thee we scream!
Long may our pots be bright;
We scrubbed them half a night!
The microwave has saved our life,
TO IT WE SING!!!!